Yuletide Yamaku - The Yamaku Reader Story
by Helbereth
Summary: A holiday tale about a skittish journalist, Hanako Ikezawa, trying to get a story for her high school gossip column, or at least finish the class play she's been charged with writing. Seeking inspiration, she finds a familiar face and discovers something new, but she'll have to use her words to fight for the holiday wish she didn't know she wanted.
1. C1: The Merriment Project

_**Part 1: The Merriment Project**_

The holiday season was in full swing, and that meant snow, biting cold, strained relationships, and more than a little excessive drinking. Only some of those things were true around Yamaku Academy—maybe more than Hanako thought—but she wasn't complaining on that brisk Wednesday afternoon. In the spirit of the season, she donned her big, puffy black winter coat and an aptly named holiday hat—green felt with fluffy white fringe and a big white ball on the end—and set out across the campus carrying an impressive stack of gifts. Christmas Day wouldn't arrive for another week, but the holidays wait for no one—least of all a Hakamichi.

Despite their somewhat standoffish relationship, Shizune had started trusting Hanako with numerous tasks—at least ever since she and Lilly had reconciled—which most recently had included wrapping the Secret Santa gifts turned in by their fellow students. There were several still hidden in her dorm room for safekeeping, but the students setting the stage for the holiday play had requested a few packages so they could define the layout, and Hanako was eager to get away from her laptop. Writing the holiday play for room three-three was starting to wear on her, mostly because she'd been blocked and completely out of ideas for the past week. Luckily, Shizune remained unaware of that little hiccup, or Hanako might not have been allowed to enjoy a nice wintry walk across the school grounds.

Making her way along the winding paths, only recently cleared after the previous night's snowfall, Hanako listed to her side as she walked against the steady chill breeze. Using her knee as a brace, she tried balancing the tower of packages, but that just sent her stumbling toward a patch of black ice. Giving up on trying to prevent the inevitable, she let go of the stack and dropped to her knees, slamming her eyes closed as the lovingly-wrapped boxes scattered across the cement walkway. Nothing in them being breakable, she didn't bother worrying about damage to anything except her pride; she could already hear some familiar snickering.

"Wahaha~!" Misha laughed as Hanako's shoulders slumped. Seeing that reaction, the pink-haired girl slapped a mitten-covered hand over her mouth and apologized, "Sorry, Hana-chan, d'you need a hand~?"

Still resting on the cold walkway, Hanako reached up to adjust her hat, lifting it just enough to uncover her eyes, and turned to shake her head. "N-no thanks, M-Misha... I just lost my b-balance," she mumbled, springing back to her feet and brushing some snow off her knees. Noticing that Misha's conjoined twin seemed to have gone missing, Hanako inquired, "Where's S-Shizune?"

"Back there," she replied, pointing over her shoulder toward the girls' dorm, "Probably still arguing with Lilly over refreshments... C'mon, I've only got a few boxes to carry~!" she held up her little stack of packages, "Lemme take a few of yours~!"

Imagining Lilly and Shizune trying to argue using deaf-blind signing made Hanako smirk derisively, which Misha took as an invitation to assist with the packages. In the months since joining the newspaper club, largely because Hanako often acted as the emissary between Natsume and the Student Council, she and Misha had become friends, so the offer wasn't unexpected. Figuring it would probably be easier to accept her help than try to argue or explain, Hanako let bubbly Misha take some of the burden, and they soon continued along their way into the main school building.

After reaching the auditorium without further incident, they found half the student body was already there—or about fifty of them, at least. As expected, they were all buzzing about, decorating the room for the holiday play, setting up concession stands, and generally making a lot of noise. When the two girls stepped in carrying stacks of wrapped presents, a hundred eyes seemed to turn and watch them pass, and Hanako silently thanked the boxes she was carrying for providing a barrier against their scrutiny. She knew they were probably wondering about the gifts more than her presence, but irrational fears aren't rational.

Misha, bombastic and cheerful as always, laughed loudly, "Wahaha~!" then aimed a curious eye toward the stage and called out, "Hicchan~! I thought you said you were too busy today~?"

"Misha?" he called back, sounding a little anxious; he often got roped into helping the Student Council even though he had never actually joined. Looking up, Hanako quirked an eyebrow at seeing Emi resting atop his shoulders, but just shook her head as Hisao added, "I thought you were working in the Council Room today?"

"We were~! She still is—well, kinda, but not really~!" Misha replied, the bustle of the auditorium restarting as she began bounding down the aisle. Giggling as she went, she cheered, "Yay, Emi~! You got the Grinch to come help~!"

"He's not a Grinch!" Emi balked, wobbling a little on her shoulder-perch, "He just needed proper... motivation!"

Evidently Hisao had told Misha he would be unavailable, but considering he was there holding a box of glass ornaments with Emi sitting on his shoulders, Hanako presumed his girlfriend had convinced him otherwise—she didn't want to know how. Smiling softly, and deciding not to eavesdrop further, Hanako trailed at a more leisurely pace, mostly keeping her head down as she concentrated on not tripping over something—or someone. Upon reaching the stage, she hefted the gift stack up next to Misha's pile and, instead of leaping up onto the raised stage like the pink-haired girl had done, she walked over to the stairs.

By the time Hanako reached the stage, Misha had already wandered off somewhere, which left just Hisao, Emi and a few others milling about behind the tree. Guessing that she might as well do the courteous thing, Hanako lifted her hand and offered Hisao a mitten-covered wave, which garnered a smile and a greeting, "Hello, Hanako. How's the script coming?"

Before Hanako could reply, Emi waved from atop her perch and beamed, "Heya, Hanako! You look festive—I love your hat~!"

Their greetings put a smile on Hanako's face, but she still felt a little nervous, especially having half the school in the room behind her. She felt like every last one of them was staring at her behind, and hoped—perhaps naively—that it was mostly because of the Christmas trees embroidered on her jean pockets; she knew from behind she cut quite the silhouette.

"Th-thank you, Emi," she replied, managing a courteous bow that probably wasn't necessary, and made her cringe when she thought about all those eyes. "Hello, Hisao," she added, shrugging slightly as she answered his question, "It's... a w-work in p-progress..."

"Your secret's safe with me," he assured her, glancing up at Emi to whisper, "Don't tell Shizune!"

"Like I'd tell her anything!" Emi balked, slapping his shoulder abruptly then turning to grin at Hanako. "Like my step-ladder?" she joked, flicking Hisao's perpetual cow-lick, "He works cheap—runs on kisses~!"

Shaking his head slightly, the cow-licked boy glanced up at her and sighed, "That's why I keep taking us under the mistletoe—I need more fuel!"

At hearing that, Emi ducked down and kissed his forehead, then sat back up with a girlish giggle and cheered, "Onward, steed! We have a tree to decorate~!"

Reaching up to rub the patch of lip gloss off his forehead, Hisao grumbled, "I'm not your horsey!"

"I really like riding you, though!" she remarked, smirking suggestively as he turned them away, "Seeya 'round, Hanako~!"

Watching them go back to the tree, Hanako shook her head and shrugged. For a while she had entertained the idea of getting to know Hisao more closely—beyond friendship—but he had already gravitated toward the little runner girl by that point, and they just seemed to fit together—so to speak. Still, even if romance wasn't an option, she considered Hisao her friend; they shared a love of reading, and often traded books. Besides that, the holidays were hardly a time for jealousy, and she felt content having made friends with Natsume and Naomi, and Emi was okay, too—though preferably in small doses.

When she first started writing for the school paper, the Emi and Hisao relationship provided a wellspring of material for Hanako's burgeoning gossip column. Writing little relationship speculation pieces wasn't exactly fulfilling in a creative sense, but it allowed her to flex her journalistic muscles. Having ghost-like status around the school really helped when it came to pursuing those kinds of stories; people rarely think to check for phantoms before running their mouth, or acting in a less than savory manner. That had led to a number of juicy stories that slowly built her readership.

The real kicker came later, when her story detailing the infamous lemon shed incident cinched her column's readership school-wide—even omitting most of the witnessed details, and without using names—so, speaking optimistically, romantic loss had brought professional gain. Sometimes she couldn't quite convince herself of that, especially late at night while she was alone in her room, but there was little she could do about it now that Hisao and Emi were practically married; any relationship of Emi's that lasted more than an afternoon or two would probably last forever—her friendship with the reclusive Rin proved that.

In the interim, Hanako was hardly looking for any kind romantic entanglements; she had barely started figuring out friendships, and she doubted anyone around the school looked at her that way, anyway. So, with that thought in mind, she slowly turned her Christmas-tree-covered behind away, and started walking back across the stage. However, before she could even get close to the stairs, a pink blur suddenly appeared at her side, caught her by the elbow, and abruptly turned her back around; Hanako still hadn't quite figured out how to predict Misha's erratic movements—they seemed truly random.

"Hey, you came here to work, right~?" Misha boomed, the volume making Hanako flinch—the acoustics on stage made her voice even louder. "Right~!" she answered her own question—still with ear-piercing loudness—then held up a beckoning hand and added, "C'mon, our class is on decoration duty—we could use those dexterous digits~!"

Setting aside Misha's likely accidental alliteration, Hanako took a moment to think. The tradition around the holidays at Yamaku was for the whole school to put together a holiday festival, and the graduating class would also put on holiday-themed plays. Each classroom was responsible for its own costumes and staging, and Hanako had been entrusted with developing the script for her class, which was waiting back at her dorm on her laptop—completely stalled. Thus far, it had been fun to write, and she liked flexing her creativity writing fiction, but she also missed helping with the decorations. That's why she volunteered to help with the Secret Santa packages in the first place: it made her feel a little more involved in a communal sense.

Considering that, being given the opportunity to make hand-crafted ornaments was an offer she could hardly refuse, so, nodding gleefully, she replied, "O-okay... I could use a b-break, anyway..."

Agreement secured, Misha let out a cheerful, "Wahaha~!" and turned to lead her backstage.

The dim, narrow hallway running behind the main stage served as storage area, and a small workstation was set up amidst the various remnants of previous productions. Cramped into that small area, a half dozen of her classmates sat working with glass baubles, ribbons, construction paper, and all sorts of glue and glitter. Hanako had to try really hard not to grin like an idiot at seeing their determined smiles, holiday hats, and the colorful decorations on which they were working; it was all so festive. A few glanced up to watch the two girls approach, but, being too engrossed in their work, none bothered saying anything.

However, Misha broke the silence almost immediately. "There's paper, hooks, ribbon, streamers, glitter...!" she lilted, pointing out the various resources, "All kinds of... stuff~! Go nuts—make whatever you want, Hana-chan~!"

Turning to watch as Misha started walking away, Hanako asked, "Y-you're not helping?"

"Shicchan has me supervising~! Of all things...!" she replied, shrugging noncommittally, "Though I think she just wants me to help keep spirits up~! The loudest voices bring the most cheer, I think, right~? Right~!"

Deciding not to argue, if only because Misha did that well enough on her own, Hanako simply nodded and watched her leave; it was good to see her wielding some autonomy on the Council in any case, regardless of the reasons. With Misha gone, though, she turned back to inspect the group and sighed inwardly. She had come a long way toward being more social, even managing a few friends outside of Lilly, Naomi and Natsume—one of which had just exited stage left. However, even though all six of the students in front of her were quite familiar with her, and she had known most of them for years—mostly indirectly—she felt nervous sitting down with them, even in a nonthreatening holiday setting.

On the far end sat Miura and Suzuki, tied at the hip like always, both trying to muddle their way through constructing ornaments out of glass baubles, ribbons, and tape—lots of tape. Miura still operated as though she had both hands at times, which resulted in a lot of accidental hand slips; the shattered remnants from a few glass baubles proved as much. Meanwhile, Suzuki didn't look like she was in any condition to focus on anything more complicated than a television set—the holiday rush effected some more than others. They were both smiling, though, which could easily have been from fatigue, but Hanako decided to think of it as holiday cheer.

A little closer sat Maeda and Valeth, both seeming to have equal skill at piecing together snowflakes out of construction paper and glitter—that is to say, none at all. The evidence of their failed attempts lay scattered all over the floor, in their hair, and probably in a few places best left unmentioned, and looked more like confetti than anything else. She didn't know either of them particularly well, except that she sometimes saw Valeth in the library—he was in the book club—but watching them made her wonder whether either should be allowed to wield scissors. Still, they were trying, and, around the holidays, that's all that really mattered.

Closest to her, and perhaps the least familiar of the bunch, sat Arai and Kapur, who seemed like an odd pair, but were often seen together outside of class. Rumors of their being involved romantically had become part of Yamaku lore, but all assumptions about their being a couple remained hearsay; it was almost on the level of a certain formerly twice shy couple from room three-one. If they opened up to her, maybe she could get another fluff piece for her gossip column—a cute little love story just in time for the holidays. Realizing she might be stepping into a golden opportunity, Hanako decided to sit down next to the odd couple.

As Hanako got herself situated, Kapur greeted her cheerily, "Hi, Hanako!" Her soft voice and penchant for skipping formality left Hanako with a crooked smirk. "Got roped into this too, huh?" she speculated, casting a glance toward the rest of the group, "Don't worry, we all got suckered into this—it's all in good fun, right gang?"

A chorus of noncommittal groans followed, along with a series of synchronized shrugs. Kapur rolled her eyes and shrugged along with them as she conceded, "Okay, this kinda sucks," she then raised a cheerful fist in the air, "but it'll be worth it in the end!"

"Can it, Missy Mnemonic!" Miura groaned, setting down her unfinished ornament as she leaned toward Hanako, "So, did Misha trick you into this, or were you really that bored?"

"U-um, w-well... trick me?" Hanako sputtered, her nervousness bringing out more of the stutter that she had been trying to repress, "N-not exactly... I-I was w-working on... the script, a-and-"

Letting out a hearty laugh, Arai interjected, "Boor-iiing...! Cooped up in front of a computer monitor for umpteen hours? You must have cabin fever—no wonder you're here... not that we're bothered! The more the merrier, I say!"

The fact that he was right made Hanako smile, but the bombastic way in which he spoke made her cringe a little. "S-something like that..." she mumbled, turning her eyes toward the craft supplies, "I needed to g-get away for a w-while, I guess... c-clear my head."

"Well, you're welcome to stay," Kapur said with a hopeful smile. "These two idiots might as well just burn the snowflakes they're working on," she remarked flippantly, pointing at Valeth and Maeda who both shrugged in agreement, "and Snoozu keeps falling asleep on the glue sticks..."

"I heard that!" Suzuki protested, glaring at the dainty Indian girl as she grabbed her friend's shoulder and groggily added, "Miki, engage battle plan alpha!"

Raising an eyebrow at her sleepy friend, Miura asked, "Which one is alpha again?"

"B-ten, C-four, D-eight!" came the hazy reply, followed by a raised fist and a sleepy cry, "The Bharatiya Nausena dogs are attacking! All hands to battle stations! Cry havoc...! And..." The rest of her declaration came out as a garbled, incoherent groan—something akin to a snore, but much more dramatic.

"Don't mind her, she didn't sleep last night," Kapur stated, rolling her eyes as she turned back to Hanako, "Apparently she was staying up to see Santa... a week early, no less..."

"That old fat-ass owes me a new lamp!" Suzuki balked, slumping back against the wall as she grumbled a few unintelligible expletives.

Everyone, even Hanako, started laughing at that—well, except Suzuki, who simply glowered at the floor. Although she felt a little bad for Suzuki's plight, her being the object of attention helped Hanako relax as they continued their work making holiday decorations. The conversation from there went on to less pertinent matters—mostly complaints about all the extra schoolwork their teachers had been handing out—and Hanako made use of the slight lull to keep an eye on Arai and Kapur. Based on their constant bickering and mutual name-calling, it seemed like they functioned as an old married couple might, but that was no different from how anyone else in the group acted, so she probably needed to observe them alone.

That wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, though, so Hanako just focused on her handicrafts and kept her ears perked toward the discussion—just in case something interesting came to light. By then most of the group was talking about past holidays, family, upcoming visits, and other cheerful fare, some of which left Hanako feeling a little dejected. Still, she refused to let a little thing like being an orphan get in the way of enjoying the holiday spirit, or getting her story. Their tales of past holidays actually brightened her mood in some respects; reliving happier days, even if it was only vicariously, made her smile.

After a while, Misha returned from her rounds with another box of crafting materials—mostly salvage from previous holiday events—and decided to abandon her morale-boosting duties so she could join in constructing handicrafts for the tree. The presence of Misha brought a renewed fervor—or volume at least—to the conversation, but shattered any illusions Hanako might have had about getting a story from Kapur and Arai. However, all she had really learned so far was that Arai was willing to bloody his fingertips trying to build a popcorn garland, and Kapur had a very methodical approach to weaving evergreen wreaths, so Hanako didn't consider it much of a loss.

Sometime later, a lull in the conversation brought Hanako's curious eyes up to peek at the group, if only to make sure they hadn't left. Maeda noticed her glance, then immediately turned back down to focus on the snowflake he was steadily destroying. The partially deaf boy—which she assumed was the case based on knowing he had tinnitus—had barely said a few words, and had seemed even more uncomfortable than herself, ever since she arrived. She figured it had something to do with there being unexpected additions to their group—except for Misha, they were all friends with each other—though she wondered if he also might have a problem with her or Misha in particular.

That's why she was somewhat surprised when Maeda tapped Arai's shoulder and suggested, "Hey Taro, tell the Santa story."

Miura immediately slapped his shoulder and scolded, "Dammit, Tin-Tin, why would you go and ask him that? You know it always makes me cry, and I hate crying!"

Rubbing his wounded arm, Maeda replied, "Well, I don't think Hanako or Misha have heard it..."

"I wanna hear~!" Misha cheered, clapping her hands together, "I love stories that'll make me cry~!"

"Anyone surprised by that?" Suzuki questioned sardonically.

Directing a sour pout at Suzuki, Kapur interjected, "Quiet, Miss Long-Distance Sendai, nobody asked you!"

"C'mon, it's just a stupid story," Arai stated with a shrug, "It's not like it's anything special..."

Surprisingly, Valeth was the calm voice of reason suggesting, "How about we stop bickering and ask if our other guest would like to hear the tale?"

"Yeah!" Kapur agreed, turning toward Hanako with a slight shrug, "Whaddya say Hanako? You feel like crying?"

The simple fact that the story in question had caused so much contention almost made her want to refuse; Hanako never wanted to cause undue friction. On the other hand, part of the reason she had sat down was to learn more about Kapur and Arai, so hearing a story from one of them would probably help that along. Besides, the thought of hard-nosed Miura crying for any reason sounded intriguing. At the very least, hearing a cry-inducing tale involving Santa might help with the block on her holiday script, so, after a brief moment of consideration, she started nodding.

"U-um... I'd like to hear it," she said, turning toward Arai, "I-if you don't mind, um... Taro?" Using his first name wasn't how she was accustomed to addressing him—or anyone, really—but she thought it might clear up the melancholy frown he'd been displaying since Maeda brought up the subject—which it did.

Shrugging, Arai finally smiled and let out a little sigh before tentatively inquiring, "Well... if you all really wanna hear it?" To that, everyone nodded—even Miura, although she was keeping her arms folded indignantly—but Arai still seemed unwilling, taking an extra long moment, and probably hoping someone would protest.

Finally, Valeth gave an inviting wave of his hand and said, "Regale us once again, Taro... And don't spare the details."

"Okay, alright...!" Arai grumbled, accepting a pat on the shoulder from Kapur as Misha let out a squeal of joy. "It all started back a few years ago when I was in the hospital... because of my arm..." he started, giving his paralyzed right arm a shake as he spoke, "Anyway, it was right around this time of year, and..."

Hanako sat in silence as Arai retold the story from when he was fourteen, shortly after the accident that resulted in his monoplegia. Evidently, while he was stranded in the hospital over the holidays, he got roped into playing Santa by a group of nurses after the orderly who had planned to play the role suddenly fell ill. The suit fit him perfectly, so they just got him a fake beard, sat him down by the holiday tree in the children's ward, and he spent half the night listening to requests from all the sick kids.

Some of them, like himself, simply weren't able to go home for the holidays because of their recent injuries or illnesses, while others had been stranded at the hospital for months, going through chemo-therapy, or dialysis, or a dozen other long-term procedures. There was even a little boy—barely seven years old—who had been trapped in a house fire, though Arai didn't go into much detail after everyone turned a glance at Hanako. It made her feel a little bit coddled, but she understood, and didn't begrudge him his reluctance.

In any case, instead of the expected requests for games, toys, and other such things, Arai received requests for their illnesses to go away, their injuries to heal, and for their parents to take them home for the holiday. Although he'd had similar holiday wishes, the fact that so many of them wanted the same thing really made him think at the time. Even four years later, Arai still remembered every single one of those kids, their names, and their ailments—the experience was burned into his memory.

The story left all the girls, Hanako included—and even Maeda, which Valeth found hilarious—a least little misty-eyed, while Miura was practically blubbering. "Dammit, Taro!" she wailed, "It's that little bald girl that gets me every time!"

Suzuki saw to comforting Miura, though she couldn't help snickering at her friend's reaction. Meanwhile, Arai leaned against the wall and sighed, seemingly still reliving parts of the story that he might not have mentioned. Feeling curious about what was causing his angst, Hanako turned toward Kapur, who seemed surprisingly calm compared to the other girls, and whispered, "I-is he alright?"

Leaning toward her, Kapur smiled and matched Hanako's whisper as she replied, "He's fine, just a little homesick—he's staying here over the holidays. Something about his folks being away..."

"O-oh," Hanako said as she sat back.

"He really likes telling that story, but this year he can't relive it... not like usual, anyway," Kapur added, which made Hanako quirk an eyebrow in confusion. At seeing that, the twin-braided girl added, "He usually goes back to that hospital over the holiday break... to play Santa for the kids, but... he'll be up here in Sendai instead of down in Kyoto this year..."

Feeling sympathy for the compassionate young man, Hanako wondered if there might be anything she could do to help Arai, but she could hardly get his parents to return home in time. As she sat there and tried to think of some way to cheer him up, the group slowly went back to its task. It took a while longer for Hanako to go back to her crafts, but the thought that Arai would be stranded in Sendai wouldn't leave her mind. Nobody should feel depressed over the holidays, least of all someone with as much heart as Arai seemed to have, so Hanako wanted to do something. Unfortunately all she thought she was really good at lately was writing.

Actually, after a bit of consideration, she thought that writing might be a perfect idea. It wouldn't help with the gossip piece she was hoping to put together, but maybe she could help Arai and break her writer's block in one fell swoop. If she used his story as the basis for her holiday script, which she had already planned to include a visit of some kind from Santa Claus, it would make for quite the heartwarming play, and she might even convince Arai to actually play the role of Santa. That might be asking too much, but he seemed to like being the center of attention, and he was a really good storyteller, so acting on stage probably wouldn't be much of a stretch.

Having a plan in mind, Hanako stopped paying any attention to the conversation and instead focused on finishing the snowflake angel she had been crafting; she wasn't about to abandon it with only Maeda and Valeth there to try completing her masterpiece. As she worked, she plotted out the whole scene in her mind, and even found herself snickering a few times at some of the lines she imagined. Once her angel was finished, she stood, thanked Misha for letting her help, sent a soft smile around to each member of the group, then darted out past the stage, through the school, and all the way back to where her laptop waited.

After fetching a cup of tea and telling Lilly she'd be in her room for the night, she set about writing the scene as she envisioned it, though she added a few things—as often happened. As she outlined the tale, the whole thing sounded a little too corny, but she thought she could spice it up with some medical intrigue, or maybe something as simple as a power outage. That seemed like a good idea; it would mean cutting all the stage lights for a few moments, which would give the audience a little scare. She thought that could draw them in a little more, and might even make the heartwarming payoff seem all the more poignant, or something to that effect.

So focused on plotting the script, Hanako stayed up well past her normal bedtime working, and didn't fall asleep—rather unceremoniously in a heap at her desk—until well past midnight. That night she dreamed of a jolly, plump Santa coming to see her when she was still in the burn ward, and awoke with a broad smile, and wispy tears in her eyes. As she groggily dressed for class, she hoped Arai would agree to play Santa, especially since the thought of art imitating life in such a way put a spring in her steps. It may also have been something else entirely making her feel that lively, but that thought didn't even cross her mind.


	2. C2: The Dirty Denigration System

_**Part 2: The Dirty Denigration System**_

The classroom buzzed with activity as the latest of Mutou's group projects was analyzed, debated and solved, but Taro couldn't think straight. Instead he sat alone in the back corner—as per usual when he needed a moment alone—though this time he had something besides classwork to consider. His silly hospital story had apparently inspired Ikezawa to write a scene involving Santa and some hospital kids, a blackout, and a little holiday miracle, all for the class play. He had already read most of it during Mutou's lecture, but had to stop when Captain Monotonous noticed his lapse in attention, so he was finishing the latter half.

Of course, Taro didn't know much about literature, plays, or anything much about writing, but he had enjoyed the read; it seemed like a touching tale with just the right amount of humor. The fact that he'd inspired it, at least in part, made him feel honored, but her request was bothering him: she wanted him to play Santa. The fact that she'd asked was overwhelming enough, but her reasons had also seemed completely reasonable; he looked the part, knew the role, and was a decent storyteller. Normally, when one of his friends asked him to do something—even completely rational things—they worded it in a convoluted way that often left him feeling confused.

Ikezawa had been completely direct, and even smiled when she presented her arguments—he knew that was rare for her. As he sat there thinking it over, it occurred to him that accepting the part would probably make her smile again, and even that alone that might be worth all the trouble. Still, being on stage like that sounded terrifying, and—simple as they all seemed—he worried he'd be too sweaty and awkward to actually say any of the lines. Of course, most of his time on stage would be spent sitting down, which might make remembering the lines easier, but he'd also have to contend with being surrounded by a bunch of girls in scant elf costumes, and he'd be wearing little more than festive red sweatpants—a disaster in the making.

It would take more than a holiday miracle for that situation to not have an embarrassing result, and in front of the entire school no less. However, if he could survive through that scene without anything arising, he'd get to play the hero on stage in front of all his classmates—the script called for Santa to rescue a young girl from a respirator malfunction. It was only a play, but it seemed to Taro that actors got plenty of praise, even for their phony heroics. Getting that kind of notoriety might actually land him a girlfriend, which he thought he sorely needed. There were a few questions he wanted to ask before committing, but, of course, Hanako had promptly left the room when the group project started.

Molly was already giving him the stink eye for taking so long to read the little script, so he decided to put his decision on hold, at least until after helping his friend with another boring group project—Mutou really knew how to deal those out. Hefting himself up to go join her on the floor by the front of the class—her preferred spot—he slumped his shoulders a little at noticing her icy glance, but he knew she wasn't really mad. They had a system that worked: as long as they got the project done, she wouldn't bat an eye at his lazy tendencies. With any luck, she might even help him make the Santa decision in the process—that's what friends are for.

"Sorry it took so long, Mols," he said as he sat down beside her, "It's a pretty nice script, I think—did you read it yet?"

"I've been working on classwork, Dummy!" she scolded, holding up her textbook for him to take, "Page one-eighty... and try not to sweat on my book..."

Taking the book and opening it to the page in question, he repeated, "I'm sorry," then added, "I'm just a little excited is all...! She asked me to play Santa, y'know?"

"Yes, I heard her—I was five feet away when she asked. She's probably trying to save on costuming by asking the fat guy to play the jolly elf," Molly replied, shaking her head in dismay, "It doesn't mean she wants to hump you in the hall closet, so don't get too excited!"

Her assessment made plenty of sense, though he thought she could have worded it less hurtfully. Looking down at his bulbous gut, Taro muttered, "Hey, y'know it's hard for me to lose weight...! I only have one arm to exercise with!"

"You get a lot of repetitive exercise with that one arm, though..." Molly countered with a disgruntled sigh.

Taro frowned and put on his best hurt expression as he replied, "That's just mean... I've been putting work into it with Miki, but-" he cut himself off and grumbled, "Wow that sounded wrong..."

Cocking her head to the side, Molly agreed, "Yeah, Miki would shover her stump someplace you don't want it to go if she heard you say something like that..."

"Can we maybe get off this subject?" Taro requested.

"Ha-ha, you said _get off_," Molly replied, snickering as Taro grimaced at her, "Okay, okay! Sorry, Taro... I'm just on edge with the holidays and-" she paused and shook her head, finally smiling as she continued, "You'd make a great Santa for the play... and Hanako probably liked that story of yours—you really tell it well... so that's probably why she asked..."

"You think?" Taro prompted, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Yeah~!" she replied, giggling at his innocence, "You almost made me cry—me! And I've known you for three years...!" As she shook her head in dismay, Taro smiled at hearing the typical cheerfulness return to her voice. "Now, can we get this damned project done?" she requested, turning back down toward her paper, "It's due before the end of class... in twenty minutes."

Getting mollified by Molly, sarcastically or not, was something Taro had gotten used to, though this time she had sounded serious; it was hard to tell with her sometimes. In light of the season, Taro took her encouraging words at face value, and decided to accept the role Ikezawa had offered, regardless of the potential embarrassment. The only problem was that after the group project was assigned, Hanako had predictably vanished; it was hardly unusual, but he didn't know how to find her outside of the classroom—she seemed to disappear into the ether the moment she stepped through the door.

She didn't return even after lunch, and as the day wore on, Taro started to give up hope that hed be able to put a smile on her face; it was a lofty goal, but a worthy one in his mind. Taro slept through most of Ito's trigonometry lecture, and paid about the same amount of attention during Miyagi's English lesson, all the while sending furtive glances every time he heard something that sounded like the door opening. Hoping to catch her coming back to hand in Mutou's group assignment, as stupid as that sounded almost five hours later, Taro even stayed in the classroom for a while after all his classes ended.

It wasn't long before Takashi and Lezard were looming over him, their impatient stares burning into his forehead. "C'mon, Taro," Takashi groaned, hooking a hand around Taro's useless arm and tugging him to his feet, "We still have snowflakes to make... and popcorn to skewer."

"We have to swing by the library for a few things first, though," Lezard mentioned, starting to lead them out the door, "In the meantime, you can tell us all about your new girlfriend, Taro!"

"She- Wha- who?"

"Waiting for her after class, rereading that like script a hundred-billion times?" Takashi taunted, exiting into the hallway and turning back with a wry smirk, "Don't deny it!"

Being used to this sort of hazing, Taro folded his arms—mostly to take his numb one out of play—and walked ahead of his friends. Both of them continued snickering as they trod through the halls, but at least they kept their idiotic whispers to themselves. As they neared double-doors, Taro slowed his pace to let them catch up because he didn't actually know why they were visiting the library. When the doors burst open a moment later, he thought they might be there to meet someone, but that thought flew out of his mind when he realized who was treading past them at a blistering pace.

The Student Council themselves came barreling out, single-minded Shizune stepping right between Takashi and Lezard as Misha brought up the rear. The fact that the dynamic duo frightened most everyone in the class didn't stop his leery-eyed friends of his from watching the pair walk away. He joined in, of course, but only because he couldn't resist the chance to check out some Misha-booty. As they disappeared around the a corner, Taro noticed Takashi side-stepping to try keeping them in view, and rolled his eyes when he realized what his friend was probably thinking.

Once the pair had left audible range, Takashi declared, "Hot damn, I'd like to get a me piece of that!" then, thrusting his hips lewdly, he added, "Use those drills like handlebars!"

"Never put your dick in crazy, Maeda," Lezard chided, turning a crooked smirk toward Taro. "Right, Big Guy?"

Sighing as he turned back toward the door, Taro scolded, "You guys are perverted..."

Jogging to catch up, Takashi countered, "Oh, like you weren't thinking the same thing?"

Lezard decided to answer instead, "I'd prefer the President, myself... Sure, she's a little tsundere-"

"A little?" Takashi balked, turning on his heel with a look of disbelief.

"She's probably wild in the sack, though," Lezard finished, moving to catch the library door before it could swing shut. "Probably tie me up and do all kinds of... naughty things," he continued, flitting his eyebrows as Taro approached, "Maybe get the Pink Ranger involved too—though I'd insist on a ball-gag for her..."

"You both belong in institutions," Taro groaned, slapping the back of Lezard's head as he passed.

"And you belong in a zoo!" Lezard retorted indignantly.

"That still doesn't make sense, man," Takashi said as he entered, pointing at Taro and adding, "I mean, who would go see that? Even in a zoo?"

Folding his arms as he strode away from the door, Lezard scoffed, "Your mom likes to pet gorillas, Takashi, so she'd probably go for a little Taro action—I'm sure he'd be gentle, being romantic that he is..."

That earned a punch in the arm from Takashi, but Lezard shrugged it off and beckoned for both of them to follow him toward the back room. Evidently Lezard had volunteered the trio when Miss Miyagi requested for someone go retrieve some video equipment from the storage closet, along with a slide projector for use in the holiday production; it got them out of failing at making snowflakes for a while. The whole library seemed empty, so, as they went about collecting the items on the list, Takashi and Lezard continued their vulgar little conversation. Taro tried to ignore them for the most part, though that only lasted until they asked for his opinion directly.

"So, what about you, Big Guy," Lezard said, patting Taro's shoulder as they exited into the main part of the library, each carrying a few items, "If you got your holiday wish, but had to spend it getting any girl in the class to polish your knob, who would it be?"

"What kind of question is that?" Taro countered, trying to shut down the conversation.

The denial merely made Lezard more determined, and he quickly reiterated, "How about I just name names, and you try not to blush? Hmm?"

Hefting the projector he was carrying up onto the cart, Taro snorted, "You're a jerk, Lezard,"

"That's what I do, not who I am," Lezard retorted, his typically astute mind not catching the double-entendre that made Taro snicker.

"How about Suzu?" Takashi blurted, having to yell from inside the storage room.

Waving his hand dismissively, Lezard replied, "Nah, she'd fall asleep half way through..."

"That'd be kinda hot, actually," Takashi said as he peeked out through the door, drawing irksome looks from both his friends, "She'd wake up with tears in her eyes and a load in her mouth—a real Christmas miracle!" That comment got him a punch in the arm from Lezard, followed by another from Taro before he could duck back inside.

With that taken care of, Lezard reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and scolded, "No more comments from the peanut gallery—I need to concentrate!"

Taro groaned at the possibilities, but he'd gotten used to this regular ritual. Neither of them ever actually acted on these perverse ideas, but, every so often—seemingly on a daily basis—Lezard and Takashi would end up talking about who would bang who, and where, and how—typical beta-virgin posturing. That day, whether out of boredom, irreverence, or simple malice, it seemed they were determined to get Taro playing along. Were he in a joking mood, maybe he wouldn't have resisted quite so much, but he never enjoyed objectifying his classmates like that—it seemed dishonorable to him. Unfortunately, he didn't have the fortitude or the ambition to stop the two of them from engaging in their perverse games.

"Let's see, how about Miki for starters?" Lezard said, aiming his query at Taro.

Takashi decided to cut in, "Yeah, right... in all our dreams!"

"If she got really drunk, though?" Lezard hazarded.

"Still a no-go," Takashi rebutted, looking toward Taro as he spoke, "'Sides, the Big Guy didn't even flinch."

"She's not my type," Taro replied, offering a slight shrug as he returned to the storage room. "And I see her every other day at the track, so it'd just be weird..."

"That's bullshit, but... for now, I'm not gonna argue," Lezard conceded, turning a speculative squint toward Takashi. "Taro likes the brainy ones for some reason—being besties with Mnemonic Molly proves that," he remarked, to which Takashi nodded, then he raised his voice toward Taro, "So, how about Natsume?"

"Dude, Natsume's a total bush-licker," Takashi remarked crudely, "I'm pretty sure she and Naomi are already picking out sperm donors for after their Jane-Austen-themed wedding..."

"That doesn't negate the question," Lezard countered, raising his voice again for Taro to hear, "In the context of the fantasy, she'd be wholly willing, regardless of orientation."

"In that case..." Taro called back, pausing only to hold his friends in suspense, "Still a no! I wouldn't get between two girls in love like that—it'd be wrong..."

Unwilling to give up the premise, Lezard retorted, "What if she'd never know?"

"I'd know!" Taro shouted with finality.

"Just drop it, pencil-dick," Takashi scolded, snickering as Lezard turned a cold glare at him, "Besides, Taro has a point—if the internet has taught me one thing, it's that lesbian love is beautiful and should be preserved~!"

"Fine, keep your fantasy, numb-nuts," Lezard groaned, leaning against the cart with his foot on the lower shelf. As Taro started his way back out with a handful of cellophane sheets, Lezard suggested, "How about Molly, then—or is that one too close to home, too?"

Pausing a few feet from the door, Taro took a moment to think about that suggestion, mostly because Lezard hadn't actually brought it up before. He and Molly had been friends almost since they started their first year at Yamaku, and they got along so well people sometimes mistook them for being a couple. Still, even considering all of that, Taro couldn't justify getting involved with her romantically even if it were possible. She was more like a sister to him than anything else, and there were obvious reasons for him to consider her asexual—reasons he wouldn't reveal to those two chuckle-heads on a dare.

Leaning out to show them his serious expression, Taro replied, "No, not Molly—she's like a sister to me. It'd just be... weird."

"You sure about that? Bet she's real kinky behind closed doors," Takashi said, jabbing Lezard with his elbow playfully, "It's always the cute little ones in sweaters, am I right?"

Eying Takashi—who was short, and had a penchant for wearing sweaters—with narrowed eyes, Lezard stated, "For me to agree with that, I'd have to think the same of you... And, I'm not prepared to accept that mental image..."

"Ugh, yeah, sorry," Takashi muttered, backing away and shaking his head in dismay. After a brief pause, he added, "Still, we aren't through the room yet... What about Ritsu?"

Shrugging, Taro disagreed, "Too snobby."

"Ikuno?" Lezard suggested.

Genuinely confused, Taro prompted, "Who?"

"Sits next to Miki—kinda mousy," Takashi described.

"She's kinda smart—you'd like her," Lezard added.

Shrugging, Taro claimed, "Well, I can't really answer if I don't know her, can I?"

"Good point," Takashi stated, then pontificated and added, "You know Misaki, though, right? The one that's always taking pictures and annoying everyone with-"

Flashing a grin, Lezard interjected, "You'd offer up your imaginary girlfriend as Taro's cum catcher?"

"She's not my-" Takashi stopped himself and sighed, "Fuck you, Valeth! Anyway... are we gonna have to dip into other classrooms?"

"There are plenty of buxom, brainy beauties around the school... but we haven't even mentioned the coup de gras yet," Lezard stated, pushing off the cart and aiming his pointed finger at Taro, "The one he's pining for..." he aimed the finger at the floor, "Right now...! The dark-haired enigma who delivered a document and a request unto him this very day!"

"You're a shit, Lezard," Taro stated, stepping out through the door and placing a stack of cellophane sheets on the cart. Knowing where the conversation was going, Taro realized that making Lezard doubt himself was the only card he had left to play, and the last-ditch gambit probably wouldn't work, but, sighing either out of desperation or resignation, he added, "Also, you have no idea what you're talking about..."

Unfortunately, as expected, it hadn't worked. Worse, it may actually have done the opposite of what he intended. Chuckling devilishly, Lezard adjusted his little oval-framed glasses with a haughty smirk and sucked in a breath. Meanwhile, Taro slumped against the cart and sighed inwardly; he really did have a thing for Hanako, even before she visited him earlier in the day. At that moment, though, he couldn't decide whether to feel angry at himself for having let it slip, or mad at Lezard for drawing out the suspense; his bespectacled friend really liked to overplay the drama.

With a flourish of his hand that ended with him pontificating obnoxiously, Lezard stated, "We both know the only girl on your mind today is the one and only, tall, dark and frightful," he paused, drawing out the suspense for just a few more ounces of drama before shouting, "Hanako Ikezawa!"

"Scarface?" Takashi blurted, trying to sound surprised; he had merely been waiting to speak.

In his best game-show-host voice, Lezard replied, "You heard right, my friend!"

"She's not even... why would anyone? Are you fucking serious?" Takashi sputtered, probably reveling a little too much in his mock disbelief, "I mean, Taro's a total beta, but Ikezawa? That's a whole other plane of existence—a lower plane, at that."

"That's a little unfair, isn't it?" Lezard said, raising an eyebrow as he rubbed his lapel dismissively.

Long ago Taro came to the conclusion that he was better off being friends with these two because nobody else would have him. However, if this conversation continued, he didn't know whether he could justify lying to himself like that anymore. Even if she wasn't in earshot, Hanako hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of treatment, and neither had any of the other girls they'd been objectifying. Still unable to voice his argument, Taro grabbed at the cart and found the handle blindly, then held it tightly—he knew things would get worse before they got better.

"Well, okay... let's break this down," Takashi continued, his superior tone grating on Taro's ears, "She's tall—there's that. Honestly, it's not a favorable factor for me, but maybe it is for the Big Guy here."

Rolling his hand, beckoning Takashi to continue, Lezard prompted, "Go on..."

"And I don't know how she does it, but that body of hers is definitely worth a second look—and probably a third," Takashi added, still maintaining that irksome tone, "But, really... when you get right down to it, she's... a total butterface—frightfully fucked up from the neck up!"

Completely deadpan, Lezard agreed, "That's not quite how I'd phrase it, but it's a fair assessment..."

As he waited for Takashi's reply, Lezard's superior chuckling inspired Taro's grip to tighten once more, this time turning his knuckles white as he silently berated himself for not speaking out against their crassness. Even though they disagreed almost constantly, and he thought most of what his two friends said was wrong—not just on a factual level—he accepted their ravings because they were his only friends. This time, however, they were just being malicious for no apparent reason, and Taro started to feel sick, partly because of what they were saying, but mostly due to his own inaction.

Nodding solemnly, as though he were revealing some great truth of the universe, Takashi stood with a hand behind his back and a finger pointed at the ceiling. "In conclusion," he stated, pausing only to draw out the drama, "considering we're talking about a Game of Blows..."

"Nice literary reference," Lezard complimented.

"Thank you, I just finished the second book last night," Takashi replied, then, apparently pleased with his vile logic, grinned viciously as he concluded, "Since you'd have to spend the whole time looking at her face, I don't think Hanako would be a suitable candidate to provide a miraculous blow-job."

"Ah, but what about the bonus round?" Lezard asked, gripping his lapel as he spoke, "Assuming things played out naturally, would things then escalate, or-"

Summing up some courage, Taro finally interjected, "Guys, seriously! Fucking stop it...!"

"Hmm?" Lezard grunted, then shared a look with Takashi before asking, "Do you suppose that was a declaration?"

"Seemed more like a request," Takashi stated, placing a calm fist against his chest.

Chuckling grimly, Lezard remarked, "Boldness from Taro Arai? Be still my heart, I thought it impossible—I had resigned to knowing he the only thing he did passionately was masturbate..."

Gritting his teeth at that remark, Taro barely managed to bite back his snarling response. Molly being flippant like that he could handle because he knew she was kidding, but Lezard only said anything to get a rise out of people. When he advocated telling the Santa story the previous evening, it certainly wasn't out of any appreciation for heartwarming tales, or a desire for anyone else to hear the story. He had simply done it because he knew Taro was missing his family, and wanted to make him feel worse. Lezard also knew he wouldn't refuse if Hanako were the one to make the request because Taro had regrettably confided in the prick the last time they went out drinking.

"You shut your pig-mouth, Lezard!" Taro snarled, the anger boiling over for just a moment.

Takashi responded in Lezard's stead, though not to Taro's question. "There would have to be a paper bag involved," he said, apparently referencing Lezard's earlier question, "But... if things did escalate, and I didn't lose my erection at seeing her horrifying face... and the bag were secured tight enough not to fall off mid-coitus... I'd bend Scarface over the nearest wall for a good stand-up rogering!"

Uproarious laughter followed Takashi's remarks, but Taro's building fury set his blood pumping, and the rushing sound thankfully overpowered that unforgivable sound. Instead of their laughter, all he heard was their snide, unprovoked, malicious comments, and vicious, unfounded accusations playing over the white noise from his rushing blood. Usually Taro tried hard not to upset people, or throw his considerable weight around, but Hanako hadn't done anything to deserve their attacks, and now they were just standing there, laughing. In that moment, with their awful words echoing in his mind, all Taro knew for certain was that he couldn't let the maliciousness of his so-called friends go unanswered anymore.

"Shut the fuck up, Maeda—you don't know shit!" he shouted, almost flipping the cart off its wheels as he shoved himself back, "You little shit! Who do you think you are?"

"Uh-oh, we have a cave troll," Lezard stated flatly.

Ignoring Lezard for the moment, Taro aimed his one working index finger at Takashi and continued, "Who're you to judge, anyway? Nobody, that's who! You've got all the class of a mud puddle, and you're judging people? And what kind of asshole wears a beret? Wait, no, it's that kind of asshole!" he shouted as he pointed, which successfully silenced Takashi's retort. Turning toward Valeth, Taro continued, "And you...! Dick-headed King of the Betas!"

"Me?" Lezard balked, raising his eyebrow haughtily, "I've done nothing but listen! Takashi trounced your disfigured girlfriend, Taro, not I!"

"But you agreed with him, egged him on!" Taro accused, shoving the cart away, which sent it crashing against the wall as the cellophane sheets scattered across the floor. "Chuckling like a fucking douchebag, grinning and making fun!?" he yelled, snarling every word, "She's not even here to defend herself, you son of a bitch!"

"Oh, did we strike a nerve, there, Big Guy?" Lezard taunted, apparently unaware of how grating his voice already sounded to Taro. "You're here, aren't you?" he added, grinning obnoxiously, "If you're so concerned, why don't you step up and defend her in absentia?"

"Not that he could," Takashi said, drawing an angry glare from Taro, "All brawn and no brains—he'd be walking into a battle of wits unarmed~!"

As those last few melodic syllables rolled off Takashi's misguided tongue, he'd probably already begun to regret them. With almost supernatural speed, especially considering his considerable girth, Taro's rage exploded into a charge—arm drawn back, teeth bared. Caught off guard, Takashi barely managed to start a retreat, but he was too late, catching Taro's fury-propelled fist across his jaw, which only briefly interrupted its path toward breaking his nose. As Takashi then spun gracelessly to the floor, Taro nearly overbalanced and followed him down, only barely managing to catch himself on a bookshelf that wobbled against his weight.

Taro heard a whimper as he spun around—presumably from Takashi—but he ignored it as his eyes locked onto Lezard's hawkish face. Standing exactly where he had been a moment before, mouth agape, a hand held out in silent protest, his bespectacled eyes darting between Taro and Takashi, Lezard seemed completely overwhelmed. Guessing that meant he wasn't about to leap in to defend his friend, Taro huffed a breath and snapped a quick look down as Takashi groaned and rolled away, cradling the red welt on his jaw which was stained crimson by the stream flowing from his nose.

Upon turning back to see Lezard's renewed, and horrified expression, Taro almost felt guilty for a moment, but that passed the instant the trickster started speaking. "The fuck, Taro?!" Lezard shouted, grabbing both his lapels and leaning forward as he spoke, "It's just a bit of harmless fun—what'd he do to deserve-"

"No! Fuck you, Lezard!" came Taro's biting reply, "You sit back and judge people all day, make fun of them, call them names, say nasty things—you're a God-damned disease!"

"And you're what...? The cure? I'm not the one going around hitting people, Taro," Lezard said coolly, though from the slight quiver in his voice, Taro could tell he was barely hanging onto his rationale.

"You do worse!" Taro countered, taking a bold step forward, one that made Lezard retreat, "You get in people's heads and make them feel bad about themselves, about their lives—even the people you call your friends! Me! Molly! Even Takashi!"

"That's not-"

"Don't deny it!" Taro screamed, taking another step forward. As Lezard took another step back, which put him against the library counter, Taro grimaced and pointed toward Takashi—or where the little toady had been, anyway.

"You're the one-"

"You **caused** this... you **shit**!" Taro barked, silencing Lezard again as he turned a quick glance to see Takashi had already leaped up and darted away toward the exit. Looking back at his bespectacled former friend, he continued, "Egging him on, encouraging him to be an asshole because what? You enjoy it? You get off on it!? You're a fucking disease!"

Still indignant, Lezard sidled away against the counter, eying Taro warily as he went. His uncontrollable shaking made Taro smirk, but Lezard hadn't quite lost his ability to speak just yet. "S-say what you want," he stuttered, almost tripping over a chair as he continued backing away from Taro's closing strides, "When N-Nurse sees Takashi's f-face, you'll be the one who's ex- expe... Expelled!"

As Lezard and Takashi ran out of the library, tails between their legs, Taro stopped his pursuit and yelled after them, "Go find a hole and die in it, assholes!"

It probably wasn't the best line ever uttered, but saying it made him feel better. The rage took a few minutes to peter out, and the adrenaline rush soon subside, leaving his head a little clearer, and his hand throbbing with pain—Takashi, if nothing else, had a solid jaw. The fist didn't hurt nearly as badly as the clarity, though, which brought the realization that Lezard was probably right; Nurse would see Takashi's nose, and listen to their silver tongues tell the story, then there'd be an inquest—one that Taro probably stood no chance of surviving without expulsion.

In the end, he didn't regret anything he'd said, or even punching Takashi; they were being assholes, and he was sick of going along with their bullshit—it had been a long time coming. As things go, maybe Molly would speak for Taro's character at the inquest—Miki and Suzu, too, if they could be bothered—but it wouldn't be enough, and then he'd then be shipped back to Kyoto to face his disappointed parents—at least he might see them for the holidays. What he did regret was that nobody had been around to see his hero moment, hear him defend a girl's honor, or watch him lay the irksome knave down like a disobedient dog. It was just as well, though; he wasn't the most eloquent or graceful of warriors.

Shrugging as he headed for the exit, Taro wondered if he should bother sticking around to face the music. He figured he could just run away and find work at a restaurant; his uncle would take him in if he asked, and the education wouldn't have ended up mattering much in his case. That hardly seemed like the hero's path, though, and not all the cards had yet been dealt, so he lumbered his way back to the dorms so he could await judgment in his fortress of solitude. Besides, even though he couldn't imagine how it could end well, he had a feeling in his considerable gut that his story wasn't quite finished. That could just have been gas from the salad Miki had made him eat for lunch, though.


	3. C3: Trickster Toady Scapegoat Scribe

_**Part 3: **_**__****Trickster Toady Scapegoat Scribe **

The silence in the library seemed almost supernatural as Hanako sat wordlessly on the bean bag chair—her favorite secluded spot—trying to decide what to think. On one hand, she'd just heard probably the most vulgar conversation ever to grace her young ears, or perhaps anyone's ears, the topic of which left her feeling violated. However, the way it all ended, especially that sound—flesh striking flesh—and the angered declarations from the typically sweet and carefree Arai, seemed far more important.

For a long while, Arai stayed in the library, probably thinking about that last biting comment from Valeth, and the impact it would have on his future at Yamaku, or even life in general. Wanting to help him somehow, Hanako considered making her presence known, but she didn't think it would do any good. If anything it would probably be too little and too late, and she thought it might even make matters worse. Before she could get over her indecisiveness, he finally meandered out of the library, leaving her sitting in her secluded corner, the only witness to the entire exchange.

She wasn't just a witness, though. Some of what had been said got lost in the echo of the big room, but she had heard every hurtful thing Maeda said near the end—all of which was aimed directly at her—and that alone was enough to make her angry. Even though she'd heard almost all of it before, most of which to her face, and she had learned to ignore comments like that for the most part, the context made it feel a lot worse—a miraculous blow-job, indeed. In that moment, she had almost stood up to yell something in her defense, but she was too shocked to move, or utter a single word. Then everything started escalating, and Hanako had cowered in her corner, just praying none of them noticed her.

Then Arai started yelling, and most of it had to do with his friends and their antics rather than Hanako herself, but she realized it wasn't until they started talking about her that his protests became so heated—as though attacking her was the last straw. Even though she didn't like being coddled, the fact that he'd turned on his friends like that, and over someone whom he didn't even know was in the room, had actually made her happy, even proud; it felt good having someone defend her like that in her absence. Still, even though laying Maeda out like that seemed wholly justifiable—not to mention completely awesome in retrospect—Valeth had a point; the blame would fall directly on Arai.

In her eyes—or her ears at least—Maeda, and especially Valeth, had provoked Arai into the punch, but the chance of the school-board siding with the Big Guy—as they had called him—was remote. Even though the school year was almost over, and graduation was a mere couple of months away, a school like Yamaku—which acquires the majority of its budget from private benefactors with lots of conduct clauses—would have to side with the physical evidence in the absence of witness accounts. That evidence would be turning black and blue to mix with bloody in the near future, she realized, and all Arai had to combat the coming inquest was his word against both Maeda and Valeth—hardly a fair fight.

Yamaku staff and students in general, in her opinion, had a responsibility to practice the school's ideals, even when nobody was watching. Although he could have handled it better, that's what Arai was ultimately trying to do, but he would need help proving it to the board of inquest; Arai was a nice, charitable guy at heart, but the incident report needed a scapegoat. The fact that trying to defend his classmates, and ostensibly herself, might get Arai expelled made Hanako feel responsible, which translated to her having a personal stake in seeing justice served. So, perhaps ironically, instead of being the damsel in distress, she'd become the white knight, and that exciting thought put the fire of resolve into her veins.

The only problem would be figuring out how to provide an adequate defense, but her gears were already turning. Fortunately, not only had Hanako witnessed the entire exchange, but she also had the writing chops to paint the plucky paladin—cherubic Taro Arai—in a positive light. Unfortunately, her appearing at the inquest to provide a witness statement wouldn't necessarily guarantee a favorable verdict. Besides that, with the break fast approaching the process of justice would likely get sped up, and the board might be prone to rubber-stamping the proceedings before the holiday, so her time was limited.

To combat that, she figured if enough of the student body spoke out on Arai's behalf, there was a good chance the board would fold under the pressure; they wouldn't risk potentially losing tuition revenue over one expulsion. All she needed was a way to get the word out, but that remained an obstacle. Mechanical pencil hung over her ear, Hanako leaned back in her chair and tried to focus; the time had passed for indignant outbursts, physical altercations, and feeling depressed. She needed to come up with a plan—something elegant, thoughtful, and not to mention diplomatic—to help dig Arai out of the hole his righteous actions had dug.

Unfortunately, the best way to go about that was eluding her typically sharp mind; Hanako just couldn't think of anything worthwhile, so things were looking bleak. She considered posting fliers around the school to garner support, but time was an issue in that regard, and so was manpower. Using the school intercom to make an announcement crossed her mind, but she was ill-equipped for public speaking, and nobody listened to those anyway. The holiday plays would gather the whole school in one place—the auditorium, no less—and by then she could find someone else to give a speech on Arai's behalf—Hisao would be a good candidate since they seemed to have been friends—but the inquest would probably be over by then.

Groaning aloud, Hanako wished real life were more like it is in books because then she could skip to the part where the plucky journalist figures out a plan to save the day, and not have to worry about coming up with said plan. Thinking some music might help get her creative juices flowing, she queued up some of her favorite Christmas songs—it was still the holidays, after all—and started tapping and humming with the melodies. At one point she actually started singing along, loudly, even going so far as to get up and dance, though nobody was around to see or hear her exuberance. In the end, none of that ultimately helped her think of a way to help Arai, and singing just made her thirsty.

Upon returning from the vending machines, and feeling somewhat desperate, her eyes wandered down to the papers Shizune had left; a collection of notes on the holiday script, along with a few requests for alterations. Hanako had started making changes to the play before the boys arrived, and seeing the open file didn't help much, but looking at her laptop made her realize she still had an editorial to write. Natsume was expecting something with a holiday theme for the coming paper, which was due to go out in on Wednesday, but, as she stared at her monitor, a plan started forming in Hanako's mind; the power of the written word would save the day—or so she hoped since it was the only idea that could work in time.

Considering the disturbing conversation she had overheard, there was certainly enough material for a seven-hundred word editorial, and she could probably convince Natsume to give it the front page; it would make for one hell of a story no matter the result. Resolved to set things in motion, no matter the consequences, Hanako closed the file containing her speculative notes on the Kapur and Arai involvement—Arai had basically disproved it anyway—and started a new document. Titling the new file, [Belligerent Boy Browbeats Buddies Into Battle! Has Bullying At Yamaku Become Blasé?] made her smirk; it was ridiculously long and probably overwrought, but would look great in bold lettering.

Thus, instead of a fluffy holiday piece, she started hammering out a biting editorial detailing the vulgar, heartless antics of two social deviants, and the righteous young man who so selflessly defended the virtue of his classmates. Recounting the horrible conversation put an angry gleam in her eyes, and Hanako operated on adrenaline and canned coffee as her keyboard's clacking sound filled the empty library. Her healthy sensitivity toward the downtrodden, which she had developed through years of personal experience with peer torment, fueled the fire in her words. Sentences and paragraphs danced across the screen, each one punctuated with literary daggers aimed at the story's true villains: Maeda and Valeth.

After burning through seven-hundred words in less than an half an hour, she started focusing on editing to make every word as clear, concise, and socially damning as she thought possible. When she thought it was as perfect as possible, she packed up her things and moved to leave the library. As she walked toward the exit, though, her eyes fell upon the cart that Arai had shoved against the wall, and the scattered cellophane left on the ground in the scuffle. She had peeked at the scene before, but hadn't spent much time looking because she felt guilty; she probably could have stopped them had she not been frozen with panic. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to change the past, but it still made her furious.

If anyone saw her passing through the halls that night, her eyes burning with righteous fury, they probably would have wondered whether it was really Hanako. Taking broad strides, the kind only a tall girl like herself could take when wholly focused on arriving at a destination in as swift a manner as possible, she marched straight to Natsume's room to deliver the file. Maybe she had been useless to Arai in the moment, but there was nothing stopping her from making it right. Following Hanako's decidedly discourteous knock—which was more like a pounding—Natsume answered her door with a cheerful giggle that turned into a curious pout the moment Hanako placed the flash drive in her hand.

Staring down at the device blankly, the confused girl asked, "What's this?"

"My editorial," Hanako explained abruptly, then locked her gaze with the bespectacled girl's two-toned eyes and demanded, "Run it on the front page, and don't spare the ink."

Natsume held the drive in her hand and stared blankly for a few moments, shocked by the determination in Hanako's voice, is not her lack of a stutter. Nodding slowly, she replied, "Okay, I'll give it a loo-"

Leaning closer and enunciating each word, Hanako interjected, "Front. Page," then, grimacing apologetically, she requested, "Please?"

"We'd have to rework the whole paper," Natsume groaned, "it'd take hours of-" Hanako, eyes practically glowing with resolve, glared so convincingly that Natsume stopped in the middle of her sentence. After only a few moments, she cleared her throat and conceded, "I'll take it seriously—don't worry! Stop staring at me like that...!"

Looking away for a moment, Hanako sputtered, "S-sorry..."

"Not that it isn't a good look for you!" Natsume added, tossing the drive up and catching it deftly, "I'll just assume this is the most important thing you've ever written—it had better be good."

"It's b-better than good," Hanako assured her, frowning a little at her disappointing stutter.

"I believe you," Natsume said in as serious a tone as the typically flippant amateur journalist had ever mustered.

Convinced that Natsume would do as she said, Hanako bowed slightly and smiled, then left her in peace. It wasn't until she was half way back to her own room that creeping doubts started entering her mind, and her blistering pace slowed. She begrudgingly realized that there was no guarantee people would bother to read her editorial, much less act on the injustice. Also, Natsume might not even agree to print it—even if it really was the best thing Hanako had ever written—especially considering the somewhat vulgar language it contained; all direct quotes from the two assailants.

Feeling conflicted, and not to mention exhausted by the whole ordeal, as she approached her own door, Hanako's eyes turned toward that of her neighbor and friend, Lilly Satou. Since joining the newspaper club, Hanako had been functioning quite well on her own—that is, without leaning on Lilly all the time—but this was different. The editorial was a Hail Mary pass at best, and Hanako had understood that from word one, but she also felt like there was more at stake somehow. She had a personal investment of sorts in the outcome, and maybe a little bit of a vendetta, but that wasn't what made her pause and consider talking to Lilly.

There was something disturbing about seeing the sweet, kind Arai, who had played Santa Claus for a hospital full of sick kids, turn into a twisted nightmare, even if only for those few fleeting moments. Although she didn't exactly know why, as she stood there staring at Lilly's door, she considered what could have happened if she had been in Arai's place. Hanako couldn't shake the thought that she too could suddenly snap and start screaming at her supposed friends, or even attacking them physically. It was almost too horrifying and irrational to imagine, but in the wake of what she had witnessed, she needed some reassuring.

So she knocked, and, as expected, especially after hearing the conflict in Hanako's voice, Lilly invited her inside. Initially Lilly assumed it was concerning the latest draft of her holiday play, so when Hanako instead explained about what had happened in the library, Valeth and Maeda's awful comments, Arai's outburst, the assault, and the editorial she had written, Lilly was justifiably overwhelmed. As any true friend would, Lilly then sat up with her long into the night, drinking tea and helping settle Hanako's racing mind. Even though Lilly couldn't say for certain whether things would work out or not, when Hanako left and returned to her room, she felt a little lighter; it had helped renew her dwindling hope.

Another wintry day dawned over Yamaku, and before Hanako could even make her way into the main building, the rumor mill was already operating at capacity. As she ambled her way through the halls, keeping her head down and eyes forward as always, she caught snippets of speculative conversations. Not everyone was talking about the library incident, but those who were all seemed to echo some version of the same story: Arai went crazy following a brief argument he chased down and bludgeoned Maeda half to death. That was only one retelling, of course, and one of the more tame versions by far, but Hanako wouldn't let its inaccuracy bother her.

She knew the truth, after all, and when the newspaper arrived at their doors the next day, so would the rest of her classmates—unless Natsume nixed the editorial, of course, but Lilly had assured her that possibility was unlikely. She had said that when the truth came out, and all those tales from the rumor mill were disproved, the backlash would be so overpowering, it might lead to an inquest for Arai's provocateurs. Hanako hadn't pulled any punches in detailing the downright unsavory, degenerate, and unconscionable comments they had made, after all, and although the possibility seemed remote, learning about that might actually inspire the school-board to pursue an inquest against Maeda and Valeth—that would feel like justice, Hanako thought.

Either way, fantasizing about them being led off of school grounds by security made for quite the satisfying image, so Hanako wore a slight smile as she walked into the classroom. Stopping just inside the door, she found Maeda seated in his usual spot, and almost broke out laughing. Wearing a neck brace, Maeda sat there straight-backed, eyes forward, and wearing an idiotic grin—probably from the painkillers. The right side of his face from the cheek to the jaw was wrapped in gauze, along with his entire nose, and that made sense, but Hanako doubted the brace was actually necessary; it seemed more likely Maeda had tried to make his injury seem worse to garner sympathy from Nurse—a pathetic maneuver befitting his cowardly character.

She didn't know what the bruise looked like under all that alcohol-stained cotton, but considering how it got there, she hoped it would leave a giant scar. Part of her disliked that she enjoyed seeing him so injured, but the writer in her snickered at the irony, and cheered at the poetic justice. Maeda had earned that injury and potential facial disfigurement by insulting someone with a disfigured face, and Hanako wasn't one to hold a grudge, but she was that person, so maybe just a little bit of her smirk was from personal satisfaction. In any case, he had no idea she had been there to witness the attack—at least not yet—so she made an effort to act normal—or some version of normal—as she quickly walked around past him, headed for her desk.

As Hanako sat down, it occurred to her that Arai hadn't yet arrived, though he was often late. Still, usually Kapur would make an effort to ensure he got to class, but she was already in her seat. That probably meant Arai wouldn't be attending that day, which didn't bode well. Considering what had happened, and the consequences he might be facing, Hanako worried that Arai might have simply left the school entirely. That wasn't a very positive thought, and neither was the more likely case that he had been sequestered to his dorm room, but, between the two possibilities, the latter had better prospects; he'd look a lot worse in the board's eyes if he had run away.

Down in front, heads on their desks as always, Miura and Suzuki didn't even bother interrupting their inspection of the wood grain when Valeth walked in and marched straight to his seat. Hanako suspected their indifference had more to do with lack of sleep than anything else, though Kapur didn't seem quite so forgiving. Pouting angrily, arms crossed over her chest, Kapur had been staring at the two girls almost since Hanako walked in, and her gaze didn't show any sign of relenting. For a moment, she cast a quick look toward Valeth, but found only an emotionless stare in return, so she grumbled something inaudible and turned away; the fact that her friends were either fighting, under scrutiny, or completely ambivalent was probably tearing her up inside.

On the other hand, the hawkish Valeth didn't seem terribly concerned with either his friend's injury or the associated debacle, but he had always exuded ambivalence. Sitting with his hands on the desk, palms overlapping, perfectly straight and proper, Valeth looked like the most confident man in the room, though that was obviously a facade; he had been on the verge of crying, or pissing himself—or both—as he scurried out of the library the previous evening. Now, though, there was something disturbingly robotic about his demeanor; it seemed as though he didn't even care about what happened. That made him sound like a sociopath, though that possibility didn't make Hanako flinch.

When Hisao walked into the room, he strode across the room to his desk, passing right by Maeda without a single glance, and giving Valeth the same courtesy, though he paused to give Kapur a quick pat on the shoulder. He and Maeda had never gotten along, instead seeming to share a mutual dislike, but he and Arai sat in the same row with Kapur, and Hanako often noticed them sharing a laugh or two during class. For what it was worth, Hisao would probably take Arai's side, and he might convince Emi to do so as well. The legless runner girl maintained a standing invitation to help Arai get in shape, after all, though that may only have been extended because he approached Miura first.

Soon after Hisao's arrival, Shizune and Misha burst through the door with all the subtlety of a pack of elephants. Both cast speculative glances at the injured boy as they passed, but neither showed any sign of being surprised or concerned, and Shizune really just looked annoyed. The speed at which word traveled around Yamaku still amazed Hanako at times, though Lilly had probably informed them of the facts after she left the previous evening. A quick nod and a determined squint from the Class President indicated that much was true, and gave Hanako a little burst of confidence; if the student government took Arai's side, that would mean something to the school-board, so Hanako actually felt more optimistic for a brief moment.

That was until Mutou stepped in, making it to his desk just as the carillon bells signaled the start of the school day; he didn't seem at all pleased with anything, though that was normal for him. The class quickly fell into a hush, turning their undivided attention on him almost immediately, though it wasn't out of any academic interest. Undoubtedly Nurse had already sent out an incident report to the faculty, and the class eagerly awaited news of Arai's fate. True to his social awkwardness, Mutou blanched a little at the scrutiny, but he had the benefit of an eight by eleven sheet of paper to hide behind. After clearing his throat, and in a voice akin to his monotonous scientific lectures, he began reading aloud, directly from the report in his hand.

"Last evening, as you may already have heard, an incident occurred in the school library involving three of your studen- Err... your _fellow_ students," he began, tugging his shirt collar and blowing out a sigh at his flub before continuing, "Taro Arai, Takashi Maeda and Lezard Valeth have all given statements on the incident, and Mister Arai has been sequestered in his dorm room until an inquest can be assembled..."

Hanako's shoulders slumped at hearing that, even though she had expected as much—at least they hadn't simply expelled him immediately. Meanwhile the class sucked in a gasp, and a few speculative comments started floating up from different corners of the room. Annoyed by the outburst, Mutou cleared his throat loudly and patted the air to hush the crowd.

"In the interim," he continued, still reading from the report, "school business will be carried out as per normal, and all extracurricular activities will progress as deemed..." Trailing off and stopping there, Mutou rolled his eyes, then crumpled up the paper and tossed it unceremoniously over his shoulder—evidently it was too dry and boring even for him.

"Everything is normal, nothing important to see here, basically," he said, rolling his eyes again, "You all know the drill... School goes on like normal, except Mister Arai isn't here, of course... and we're just supposed to ignore what happened until the board figures out what to do—sound fair?"

The break from protocol shocked a few of her neighbors into dumb stares, but Hanako nodded along with the majority of her classmates. There really wasn't anything anyone could do about the Arai situation, at least not anyone without witness information, or a crystal ball, so, rationally, all there was for most anyone to do was wait for the dust to settle. In the wake of his declaration, Mutou let the class have a few moments to get the commentary out of their system, during which Naomi gave Hanako a tug on her uniform sleeve.

"We're putting it on the front page," Naomi whispered, and Hanako turned slightly to see the grim smile on her face, "Come help us get the typesetting redone after class?"

A sigh of relief escaped her lips before Hanako gave a quick nod and replied, "I will... and Th-thanks..."

"Takashi's a dick—Lezard, too," Naomi added, still wearing that grim smile, "At the very least, they aren't getting wedding invites...!" It took all her fortitude for Hanako to bite back the laugh at that declaration; Natsume and Naomi had actually started those lesbianism rumors to discourage would-be suitors.

"Okay, that's enough," Mutou stated, which silenced the murmuring voices as he turned to Maeda, "If your swelling gets worse, don't hesitate to ask for leave."

In that moment, Hanako wasn't sure whether Mutou was just being courteous, or if he would have preferred that Takashi had left; she decided to hold out hope that her homeroom teacher didn't like him much either. After pausing a few beats to wait for Takashi's nod—the stilted motion of which nearly caused Hanako to snicker—Mutou turned and waved a hand across the class. "The rest of you open to page one-eighty-five, and find the paragraph starting with the word _Causality_," he commanded, his voice going up in volume as he added, "And, no... This isn't a change in lesson plan, it's just a coincidence..."

Getting Natsume to go along with putting the editorial on the front page turned out to have been the easy part. Working into the night, which she didn't like coming sooner every day, Hanako had to completely restructure the entire layout of the twenty page newspaper in order to give her editorial its due significance—or so Naomi had said. They even ended up keeping the entire original alliterative title, and included an adorable image of Taro Arai from back during Tanabata wearing a bright blue yukata and a heartwarming smile. If seeing that and reading about Maeda and Valeth's horrible behavior didn't turn the whole school to Arai's side, Hanako didn't know what would.

As Hanako finished the last few alterations, and made a final pass to find typesetting errors, Naomi left to grab some snacks, and Natsume started gathering the paper and extra toner cartridges from the storage closet. Hunched over the keyboard with her tongue pressed against the corner of her mouth, Hanako didn't notice the sound of the door opening, nor the two shadowy figures stepping up behind her, until it was almost too late. Noticing their reflections in her long-since-emptied can of coffee, she spun around and let out a nervous yelp before managing to calm down and extend a proper greeting.

"Hi, M-Misha," she said, then nodded toward Shizune, trying to fumble through a signed greeting that probably translated as, [My hand says good morning.]

In response, Shizune offered a slight bow and smiled as she signed a reply, which Misha translated almost in unison. "Hello, Hana-chan~!" she beamed, which probably wasn't exactly what Shizune had signed, "Where's Natsume? We were about to head home for some sleep, but wanted to check in and make sure you finished in time~!"

Pointing toward the lighted closet on the far end of the room, Hanako replied, "Getting t-toner and paper—we're about r-ready to start p-printing."

"Natsume~! Need a hand~?" Misha called, which drew the bespectacled girl out after just a moment—she had probably heard them arrive.

"We could," Natsume replied, leaning against the door as she brushed a few strands of hair off her forehead, "We still have to get things printed, collated and bound up—extra hands would be welcome!"

Misha signed everything for Shizune, who replied with a brisk nod—they had figured as much, Hanako assumed. That settled, Natsume beckoned Misha over to assist with the supplies while Shizune crouched down to keep an eye out for any mistakes Hanako might have missed. Having her looming over her shoulder put her on edge, but the pleased smile on Shizune's face never changed, even when Hanako had to fix a broken line on page five; either she hadn't noticed it, or she simply thought Hanako catching the error was enough. The lack of complaints was probably a compliment of sorts, Hanako thought; she had no doubt Shizune would have read her the riot act—or written her the riot act, as it were—had she skipped repairing that line.

Later, as Shizune and Misha both lent their hands to assist with collating, folding and stapling the Yamaku Monthly Reader together, Hanako felt compelled to ask why they had gotten so involved. At first she thought she'd done something terribly wrong because the Class President was eerily still after Misha translated the question; the fact that Misha didn't answer for herself was troubling, though not unexpected—she had kind of sneered when Hanako mentioned Takashi. Meanwhile, Shizune took up a blank page and started writing out a response; apparently she didn't want to relay her explanation back through Misha. The reason why was another matter entirely, which became apparent as Hanako took the paper and started reading.

_[Valeth and Arai have never really bothered me, aside from their being somewhat lazy—not to mention both have a higher than average frequency of inadequately explained truancy! However, Maeda has wandering eyes, and I've caught him leering at Shiina, myself, and a number of other female classmates on numerous occasions. After my cousin relayed your account of the altercation, I extrapolated that Maeda's behavior has become potentially dangerous, and Valeth seems to share his deviancy. Now that I've read your complete editorial, I think Valeth may be the root of it, actually.]_

Hanako paused there to glance toward Shizune, who had gone back to collating without even waiting for her to finish. The analytical way in which she had described Maeda's leering didn't do much to hide the underlying pathos; he had been leering at her, and especially her friend, and she didn't like that. It was as good of a reason as any, and a very human one at that. Perhaps Hanako should have expected that, especially considering how close Shizune and Misha seemed, but it felt out of character for Shizune to base her actions on something almost entirely emotional. Either way, the thought of Shizune defending Misha like that, and Arai by proxy, placed a smile on Hanako's face as she continued reading.

_[Thus, supporting your campaign to highlight the virtuosity of and reverse the accusations against Arai became an endeavor of paramount importance. With some solidarity from the student body, including additional accounts of their character, it should be simple enough to shift the blame from Arai onto the deceptive perpetrators: Valeth and Maeda. Seeing them mollified for their transgressions would go a long way toward improving school morale... and don't think I haven't noticed the real reason behind your supporting Taro Arai so vehemently—your heart and mind functioning so in concert is quite inspiring.]_

That last bit gave Hanako pause, though mostly because she didn't know what Shizune was talking about; her reasons for helping Arai were completely rational and platonic, not romantic. In any case, if what Shizune had written were true, then Maeda's behavior had precedent, so painting him as the provocateur might not be quite so difficult, and, if nothing else, that gave Hanako another reason to stay hopeful. Turning up to find Shizune casting her a quick glance, she almost forgot herself and went to respond verbally, but stopped before uttering a word and started writing a note on the back of the same paper instead.

Handing the note over, Hanako gave a few quick nods toward Misha, then watched as Shizune read her brief reply, _[Thanks for the support, and the kind words. As for your real reason for helping: I won't tell Misha if you don't tell Taro.]_

Shizune narrowed her eyes for just a moment, probably at reading the mild threat, though Hanako had mostly written it as a joke—it didn't matter whether Shizune knew that, though. Instead of writing a biting reply as Hanako expected, Shizune simply smiled evenly, nodded respectfully and went back to her work stacking the newspaper pages together. That kind of calm deference probably carried a deeper meaning, especially from the typically competitive Class President, but Hanako decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth—it was almost Christmas, after all.

When Shizune stood up a few minutes later, Hanako wondered if she was about to find herself on the receiving end of a lecture, or a challenge, but she let out a sigh of relief when she heard the paper shredder chewing through their note. It seemed Shizune didn't want to leave any evidence of her irrational rationale, which Hanako only then realized could have made for quite an eye-opening story, but anything put through that shredder was, at best, unsalvageable. As Shizune returned to her seat, Hanako endured curious looks from both Naomi and Natsume, but she had a big stack of papers she could focus on until they gave up their staring—not to mention a potential exposé on the infamous Class President.

The evening moved along with only a few paper cuts to interrupt the silence. Shizune's presence curtailed the typically more talkative process of piecing the newspaper together, but nobody complained—or they were waiting until she left, at least. Even with the added help, it still took almost until midnight to finish. Although, considering they had to restructure all twenty pages, the fact that they still managed to get all three-hundred copies folded together and ready for delivery was quite the holiday miracle. That kind of miraculous result usually inspired a bit of celebratory cheering which it did, and Natsume got up from her chair to go fetch something from the filing cabinet.

As she watched Natsume having to physically stop herself, Hanako tensed up and shot a look at Naomi, who looked no less panicked for once. Natsume kept a bottle of scotch in there that they had used in previous celebratory toasts, and it was so automatic she almost pulled it straight out in front of the Class President; Shizune most definitely would not approve. Apparently thinking quickly, instead Natsume used the motion to grab a bag of Sunchips she kept next to the bottle, and Hanako breathed a sigh of relief along with Naomi. Misha seemed curious about their actions—they all tensed up at seeing Natsume grabbing a bag of chips, after all—but thankfully didn't ask any questions.

"That was close," Naomi whispered after Natsume sat back down.

Hanako nodded and replied, "Too close!"

"Sunchips anyone?" Natsume asked, trying to sell the deception, "They're baked, not friend!"

Soon after that near-debacle, which Hanako wasn't convinced they had gotten away with completely, the five girls went their separate ways. All of them generally headed for their dorms, though everyone seemed to go by a different route. Misha and Shizune cut through the school, probably to avoid the cold, while Natsume and Naomi went straight outside, and Hanako took the long route leading past the classrooms. As she walked, Hanako entertained a fantasy that after the second year newspaper club members made their deliveries, the rumor mill would be churning out tales of Taro's heroics by midday. There was hope in Hanako's heart, and something in the wintry air besides freezing temperatures and biting wind—something inexplicable.

Whether it was the season, or the camaraderie, or something else entirely, it made her feel hopeful. She believed her plan—their plan—actually had a chance of working, so, after barely managing to slip into her nightgown, she crawled into bed, and it only took a few minutes before she drifted off to sleep. Inspired by that inexplicable feeling, or maybe just because she hoped everything would turn out okay, Hanako dreamed of sharing a toast with Taro in front of the holiday tree. Even in her dream she didn't entertain any delusions, but some small part of her wondered if what she felt was more than a desire to help her cherubic classmate out of a jam—maybe Shizune was more perceptive than Hanako had thought.


	4. C4: Lies, Blame, and Bolognese

_**Part 4: Lies, Blame, and Bolognese**_

The musky smell of sweat hung in the darkened room, invading his senses, acting as a constant reminder of his shame, and turning Taro's thoughts toward despair. If he'd had the willpower, he would have gotten up off the floor and opened the window to at least let in some fresh air—the cold might also have done him some good—but he didn't want to risk being seen, and it was just easier to remain unmoving. Not only had he severed his only two lasting friendships with a single punch, but he had begun to believe it was his fault. The very idea of exposing himself to the animosity and ridicule of his classmates was simply too awful to bear, so he opted for becoming a recluse.

There was no guard assigned to his door following the incident, but that didn't matter. No self-respecting warrior would dare run away from a mistake, so he entertained no thoughts of escaping without facing the punishment for his crime; the laws of Bushido might even demand that he perform Seppuku for his shame, though he didn't have the guts for that, or a sword for that matter. He knew his being some kind of warrior was just a fantasy based on exposure to too many Shogun movies and melodramatic Manga, but the reasoning stood. Having convinced himself that his actions were unconscionable, malicious, and just plain shameful, he had decided to accept, and was ready to face whatever punishment society deemed necessary.

Well, that may have been an overstatement; he was terrified of facing his parents, his sister, or anyone back in Kyoto when the inevitable expulsion was made official, but he knew running would just have made things worse. So he sat on the floor in the dark, leaning against the door to prevent intruders from breaking in and seeing him in his disheveled state, and he waited... and waited. Time seemed to have lost all meaning, though not only because he couldn't see his alarm clock past the backpack he had thrown on it haphazardly upon returning from the offices after giving his statement. No, it seemed time no longer existed for Taro Arai; his time was over, and all that remained was for the band to play its sad, sad song.

"Taro?" came an unexpected voice, "Are you there...? Taro?" Almost inaudibly soft, sweet, and oozing with loving concern, it sounded like Molly.

However, that seemed impossible; conscientious and thoughtful, the moment she saw Takashi's jaw, Molly would have written Taro off as being irredeemable, and rightly so—he was a monster. Considering that, the chance of her coming to visit him just seemed too impossible, so Taro thought he must have been dreaming. Unlike said monster who could once have called himself her friend and now sat in deserved darkness suffering from maddening hallucinations, Molly was above such degenerate behavior as he had displayed in the library. Despite her missing legs, she had grace and poise, and would never have assaulted someone over words, no matter how vile or hurtful—not even if they attacked her personally.

"Outta the way, Mols—this is a job for a more practiced throat!" came another voice, this one much louder and shrill, though somehow equally sweet in tone. In the meantime, Taro managed a slight chuckle at her likely unintended double-entendre and assumed he wasn't actually hallucinating—if he hallucinated Miki, she'd be in his room already.

"TARO, you SHIT!" Miki screamed, probably loud enough to echo all the way to Bangaladesh—the farthest place he could think of at the time. "Open your God-damn door, asshole!" she barked, her tone becoming louder and more threatening with each word, "If you don't open this God-damned door," she started kicking his door with every other word, "I'm gonna KICK the FUCKER... DOWN!"

Her footwork notwithstanding, Miki always had a way with words, though Taro was in no mood to hear them, nor did he think they were deserved. "Go away!" he shouted as loudly as he could manage, rapping his head against the door as he sorowfully whispered, "I'm not worth the effort..."

Her voice cracking with irritation, Miki threatened, "You live on the first floor, Taro, and I can break your window with my stump!"

"She'll do it, I've seen her bust a store window!" came a third voice, this one followed by a tired snort—apparently they had dragged Suzu along for the pity party.

"That was in a dream, Su-" Miki started to say, apparently deciding not to bother arguing before she finished. Instead she started kicking the door hard enough to make Taro bounce, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Open this door this fucking instant, or I swear to God I'll-" she paused once again, and the rapping stopped as she muttered sarcastically, "Oh, good idea, Mols! Where was that BEFORE I kicked my toe bloody!?"

Taro's eyes widened as the tumblers in his locked door started clicking, and he remembered giving Molly a key to his dorm; she often came hunting if he didn't show up at their meeting spot before walking to class. His eyes started searching the darkness for some way to bar the door, but he didn't have time, so instead he braced himself against the door. Almost as soon as he planted his foot on the carpet, he heard the knob turn and groaned as the kick plate dug into his back.

"Ow, what the fu-" he started to say, slamming his other foot against the sidewall to try getting some leverage. Being barefoot didn't help matters, and he was soon skidding across the carpet trying to fight against the force of at least three intruders—combined, they easily outweighed him.

"Let us in, jackass!" Miki shouted, giving the door a hard shove, "Stop blocking the-"

"Why are you even here! Haven't I suffered enough!" Taro cried, grimacing as the rug scraped against his foot, then snapping an angry glare up at Miki as she poked her head in through the opening, "Come to make me feel worse, did you!? I thought we were friends!"

"We ARE friends, Fat-Ass," she balked, the nickname not helping improve his mood.

"Well, we shouldn't be after what I did!" Taro shot back, finally relenting as he curled up against the sidewall; adding rug-burn to his list of problems wasn't worth the effort. "I'm damaged goods," he muttered, folding his good arm across his chest and pouting like a child, "Or haven't you heard?"

"God damn! Have you even been out of this room since Wednesday?" Miki grumbled absently, sniffing the air and starting to gag.

As Miki—coughing all the way—stepped into the darkened room and snapped on the light, momentarily blinding Taro, another blurry figure, made distinct only by the twin braids across her shoulders, stepped in behind her. Molly glanced around the room for a moment, then settled her gaze on Taro's disheveled form and smirked. Taro expected an angry scowl, or something more akin to her stink-eye from her after what he had done, so he thought his eyes were playing tricks when her whole face was suddenly engulfed by a toothy grin.

"Y'know, being sequestered to your dorm doesn't preclude the use of the showers...!" Molly chided, the grin turning into a wince as she squeezed her nostrils shut with one hand.

"It smells like day-old sex and shame in here," Miki remarked, picking Taro's backpack off the alarm clock. Turning it over and raising an eyebrow as she dropped it on the bed, she laughingly added, "But, at least you're still feeling virile..." she paused and glanced at Molly, "That's the word, right?"

Groaning, Molly answered, "Yea... well, sorta..." she shook her head and turned back to Taro, "Anyway, you should probably take a shower..."

"And change your clothes," Miki added.

"And kill the mice under your bed!" Suzu joked from out in the hall, which made Molly shriek, and leap up onto her knees atop Taro's desk chair. Laughing uproariously, Suzu then stuck her head in through the door and shouted, "PSYCHE!"

"Gosh darn it, Suzuki!" Molly snapped, her obvious ire barely making a dent in her saccharine tone.

Pointing a complimentary thumbs-up at her laughing friend, Miki remarked, "Nice one, Snoozu!"

"I do what I can~!" the sleepy girl replied, leaning against the door and turning a drooping smile at Taro, "You've looked better, Big Guy... and I mean that in a completely platonic, non-sexual way."

"Noted, I'll tell Aaron you were good," Taro replied flatly, turning toward Miki, who seemed to have been leading their excursion. "And just what am I showering for?" he asked, holding his arm out wide as he added, "Filth should live within itself, don't you think?"

Folding her arms, Miki scolded, "First, put your arm down—you're losing friends..."

"I'll be in the hall, Pit-Stains," Suzu added, disappearing as advertised.

"Second, I'm guessing nobody told you, so I won't be mean... but they lifted the sexua- sequest- Um..." Miki sputtered and scowled, then shook her head and yelled, "The fucking house-arrest bullshit!"

"Sequestering," Molly stated.

"Yeah, that!" Miki agreed, then narrowed her eyes and barked, "Shut the fuck up, Missy Mnemonic!"

A snicker from the hall prefaced Suzu's remarking, "Wow, Miki... that was actually impressive! You said that whole word-"

"You too, Snoozu!" Miki yelled, aiming her stump out the door.

Taro typically caught onto things slowly, and this case was no different; it wasn't that they weren't being direct, but he hadn't been paying much attention. However, as the three girls bickered among themselves, Taro started to understand what they were trying to tell him. Apparently it was good news, or at least that's how it seemed. In any case, the three girls were too engrossed in their argument to notice him raising a curious hand.

Rolling his eyes, and having to yell over their screeching, Taro asked, "Are you saying the school-board made a decision?"

His outburst turned all three faces, each grinning a little too much, straight back to face him. Miki was the first to reply, "Kinda?" she shrugged, nodding toward Molly, "You read the report, Mols—you wanna explain the long and short of it?"

Sighing loudly, Suzu stated, "This should be good..."

Taking a deep breath, which made her chest puff out comically, Molly explained, "They haven't decided what to do with you yet, but, considering the mitigating circumstances, they've come to the conclusion that it wasn't an unprovoked attack, and sequestering you in your dorm, especially over the holiday, is unwarranted—furthermore, you'll be allowed to move around the school grounds, attend your shifts at The Beijing, participate in extracurricular activities, and go back to class starting tomorrow... A formal inquest is scheduled for the first Monday in January, but it's expected you'll get off with little more than a slap on the wrist and some community service...!"

As Molly gasped out the remainder of her breath, and nearly collapsed for lack of air, Suzu, quite contrary to her idiom, threw out her arms and exclaimed, "You're free! Free as a bird...!" then settled back to her more indifferent demeanor and added, "And we're hungry, so you're cooking..."

After a shower, which the girls made very uncomfortable by standing just outside the bathroom door, Taro redressed, donned his coat and the festive red winter hat Suzu insisted he wear, and followed the girls out across the school grounds, all the while trying not to stare at their shapely behinds—he seriously needed a girlfriend. Lumbering along a few paces behind, Taro tried to ignore their conversation, though the chill in the air made their voices carry more than usual. Most of what they were saying sounded like the typical girlish things they were always prattling on about, but he caught a few stray bits that seemed to hint at a particularly nasty rumor going around the school—something about pants-wetting.

At first he tried to catch up so he could listen, but one of them would turn a glare over her shoulder every time he got within range. That seemed unfair considering all he really wanted to know was how—or by who's genius—he'd gotten off the hook, but they were fond of keeping secrets. In the meantime he could speculate all he wanted, so he did. Someone could have been in the library the whole time, but Taro figured he would have seen them. Considering that Hakamichi and Mikado were just leaving when he arrived with his former friends, he entertained the possibility that one of them had returned for some reason, and wound up witnessing the altercation. However, since one of them probably would have stepped in before things escalated, that didn't seem likely.

Whomever and however it had happened, he was glad for the reprieve, though he wished it had happened sooner. Ever since the foreboding conversation with Nurse and the Dean, Taro had been preparing to face expulsion, a bleak future, and, perhaps worst of all, having no friends. During one particularly dark moment, he even wondered if they might cart him off to a juvenile detention center, or some kind of institution for the criminally unstable. However, someone had convinced the school-board that he wasn't a degenerate, and Taro felt like he owed whoever that was a big, mushy hug and free culinary services for life. Unfortunately, it seemed clear that the girls weren't telling him who his savior was, purposely keeping him in suspense.

"Hey, you gonna walk back there and stare at our asses the whole way?" Miki blurted suddenly, making Taro halt in his tracks.

Giggling, Suzu added, "I don't really mind—Aaron can't be bothered Skyping me, so I've been craving some attention..."

"Don't encourage him!" Molly groaned, then held out a hand toward Taro with a welcoming smile, "C'mon, Big Guy, it's warmer up here~!"

Tentatively, if only because he still wasn't sure what was really driving them, Taro joined alongside the girls. Much to his chagrin, they immediately started talking about the fight, but he expected that would come up eventually. Although the jerk probably deserved more of a pummeling, Taro had decided punching Takashi was wrong, though Miki disagreed. According to her, it was a long time coming, and she said that in the same situation—which she seemed to know more about than should have been possible—she would have followed him down and kept hitting until Takashi's face resembled raw hamburger. Suzu nodded in agreement, and, perhaps most surprisingly, so did Molly.

Actually, not only did Molly agree with enacting further violence against Takashi, she even wanted to include Lezard in the righteous pummeling. The corny euphemisms she used often made Molly sound much less impassioned when compared to Miki and Suzu, but Taro got the sense that she would have been the first one throwing punches; she was quite the spitfire when riled, and he had experienced her mean left hook. As they walked the rest of the way into town, the three girls discussed all the nasty ways they would punch, kick, throw, and otherwise mangle Takashi and Lezard. Apparently, whatever had happened, it was enough to turn all three of the girls completely against his former friends.

Even if it turned out he still got expelled, it seemed he hadn't lost all his friends, and as they neared the town, Taro decided it was better to enjoy his freedom, just in case it was fleeting. As expected, they soon approached the Beijing, which was usually closed on Friday nights, but he and Molly both had keys, and the owner didn't mind them using the kitchen as long as they kept it clean. That usually meant bringing their own supplies, too, but, as they stepped inside, he noticed a canvas bag waiting on the counter-top; evidently their trip wasn't an impromptu excursion. Molly hit the lights as Taro moved to inspect the bag, and the girls each took a seat as he started rifling through its contents.

"Fresh tomatoes and basil, yellow onions, portobello mushrooms..." he muttered, shifting the bag onto its side to access the remaining contents, "That looks like ground lamb, olive oil, vermicelli, and... is that balsamic vinegar...? Yes... Yes it is..." he paused and looked toward Molly, "What am I making?"

"Lots of something good," she replied, giggling as she spun around in her swiveling barstool, "Anything using those ingredients—chef's discretion~!"

"This is all Italian stuff, though... good Italian stuff, but..." Taro said, pushing everything back into the bag and hefting it onto his shoulder, "Is that a hint?"

"Just go make something, Fat Ass!" Miki barked, grinning at his reaction to her newly-adapted term of endearment, then planting a hand on each hip and thrusting out her considerable chest. "You think I keep this girlish figure by eating Top Ramen and Cheese Doodles?" she added derisively, aiming a glare at Suzu before the snippy narcoleptic could formulate a snappy comment, "I need carbs, and protein, and-"

"Don't mind her," Molly stated in a calm tone, still spinning on her barstool, "She hasn't been eating well since Ig and Oog suckered you into almost getting expelled..."

"She's practically wasting away," Suzu added, leaning heavily against the counter with a Cheshire grin, "In another day or two we'd be carting her off to a hospital—come to think of it, don't let her have any!"

With a suggestive sway of her hips, Miki flit her eyebrows at Taro and countered, "I'll show you my boobs if you hide Suzu's portion!"

"Like he hasn't seen 'em before!" Suzu accused.

Turning to squint narrowly at the blue-haired girl, Miki snarled, "That was one time, and I was drunk... so it doesn't count!"

Taro grinned at the memory as he stated, "I think it counted..."

"Who asked you, Thunder-Gut!?" Miki snapped, then pointed at Suzu and added, "And you! Stop reminding him!"

Sighing, which may also have been a yawn, Suzu muttered, "I doubt he needs any reminders..."

"That's... probably true," Miki admitted, shrugging as she sat down on a barstool. Chuckling to herself, she added, "Things you can't unsee, right?"

"I'll always remember it fondly," Taro said, which drew an eye roll from Suzu.

"You're starting to sound like Takashi and Lezard, there, Big Guy," she muttered, probably not meaning a word of it, though it hurt nonetheless, "Should we go back and tell them to lock you up again?"

"Aww, that's just cruel, Snoozu," Miki chided, then shook her shoulders provocatively and taunted, "'Sides, you're just jealous he hasn't seen your little bee-stings!"

Her typically smooth, indignant tone only mildly interrupted by another yawn, Suzu countered, "That's 'cause I don't get **drunk** and start **dancing** on **tables**!"

Pointing at the door with her stump, and pointing an angry finger at Suzu, Miki shouted, "That's it, Suzuki! D'you wanna step outside!"

"Fine!" Suzu yelled, slapping the counter energetically, though she barely seemed able to keep her eyes open.

The everlasting voice of reason among the trio, Molly tapped the counter lightly, just loudly enough to catch everyone's attention. "I have a solution," she said with as straight a face as she could manage. "How about we all flash him?" she suggested jokingly, "Then he'll have no reason to favor either one of us."

Punching the counter, Miki grabbed at the bottom of her shirt and threatened, "I'm game!"

"He'll still end up favoring Miki!" Suzu balked, her grogginess starting to limit the indignation in her tone.

"I was just kidding!" Molly sighed, landing her forehead in an upraised palm, "Ugh, morons..."

As the girls devolved into name-calling, it occurred to Taro that these arguments had never ended with any actual boob viewing, so he rolled his eyes, hefted the canvas sack up a little more securely, and meandered his way toward kitchen. His absence was eventually noticed—or the sound of running water and clanging pans was, at least—and Molly made her way into the kitchen with an apologetic smile to offer her services as sous chef. At first he wanted to refuse because he felt like she didn't owe him anything, but he could never refuse a determined Molly.

Besides, there was enough food in that bag to feed his entire classroom, so he accepted her offer and pointed toward the aprons hanging near the door. Watching Molly don an apron and roll up the sleeves on her festive green and red sweater, Taro smiled to himself and marveled at how perfectly normal things seemed. As always, once she was ready, Molly turned a bright smile and a casual nod at Taro—a bit of professional deference—and they got down to cooking. Imperfect as it may have been, Taro felt almost as though someone had hit the reset button and he had his whole life back, except now his on friends were three girls, and if only for a moment, he entertained a fantasy about being Charlie to their Angels.

When he recovered from that ridiculous thought, Taro found Molly standing in front of him with a curiously raised eyebrow. As with their classroom partnerships, they had a system, though Taro led in the kitchen. Molly didn't speak a single word of protest as he handed her the bag of onions to peel and dice; she had always maintained a stiff upper lip as part of her regimented upbringing, but Taro found she got a lot of crying done whenever they cooked together.

While she got that started, Taro started working at cleaning the other produce, which somehow reminded him of the one time Miki said she appreciated him, and not just for his cooking. Of course, she had been fall-down drunk and shirtless at the time, so he couldn't quite focus on determining her seriousness, but she was usually more sincere with a few drinks in her system. While he brushed the portobellos, he found himself wishing his perfectly normal world also included an unobstructed view of Miki's glorious breasts, but that was probably entirely too much to hope for, even in the spirit of the holidays.

_A perfect storm, Taro and Molly whirled through the kitchen; _

_Two dynamos in motion, their banter kept them in stitches. _

_Taro minced garlic, chopped 'shrooms, and cut basil—chiffonade_

_While Molly retrieved eggs, dairy, flour, and yeast, _

_Because Italian food without rolls is nothing if not odd. _

_And while Molly mixed, kneaded and rolled out the dough, _

_Taro browned the lamb and onions, and added tomatoes. _

_They added stock to the burgeoning sauce, then herbs and spices,_

_While in the meantime Miki and Suzu were left to their own devices._

_That was up until, and seemingly out of the blue, _

_Suzu wandered into the kitchen; she wanted to taste the food. _

_Gliding across the tiles, she seemed out of phase; _

_Her feet barely touched the floor as she wandered, quite dazed. _

_Neither had yet noticed their friend's meandering pace, _

_Until her path became obvious and it sparked a desperate race. _

_Molly dropped what she was doing and dashed to Suzu's aid, _

_Arriving in time to snatch her hand from the boiling bolognese._

"What're you doing!" Molly cried, tugging Suzu around to face her.

"Hey, no worries, I have asbestos hands!" Suzu protested, still seeming half asleep. Indignantly, she tried to reach for the boiling pan again, and Molly had to whack her with a wooden spoon to make her stop. "Ow!" she moaned, giving up the attempt, "That hurt, you bi-"

"No!" Molly scolded, grasping the bigger girl's shoulder. "Bad Snoozu," she added, marching her toward the exit, "Go back and sit down!"

Taro chuckled as the little Indian girl pushed the groggy Suzu out through the door, then raised an eyebrow when a hand appeared from the side. Grabbing her shoulder, the extra hand tugged Molly, along with Suzu, out into the dining hall. Hearing a scuffle, and a yelp from Molly, Taro moved to follow and find out what was happening, but the door swung in as he approached, and he almost ran directly into a scornful-looking Miki—he wasn't sure how she got back to the door so fast.

"Girls only!" Miki warned, holding up her stump as she narrowed her eyes. Not letting him attempt protest, she pointed toward the stove-top with her other hand and flatly added, "You man...! You cook!" then pointed her thumb over her shoulder, "We women...! We talk!"

Without another word, and holding her warning stump up the whole way, she walked backwards through the door and didn't break her methodical stride until it swung shut. It was hardly unusual behavior for Miki, though Taro wondered what was happening nonetheless. He wouldn't put it past her and Suzu to concoct a silly plan to fetch Molly without telling her why, and he chuckled thinking it could all have been a ruse, but othing really surprised him anymore where they were concerned. Besides, he had pasta to drop, and rolls to check, so he just went back to getting everything ready and tried not to think about whatever diabolical plan Miki and Suzu were out there convincing Molly to go along with.

After a few short minutes, Molly returned from the pow-wow with a crooked grin, and returned to stirring the sauce wearing a fake expression of innocence. That automatically made Taro suspicious, and he could probably get her to slip an accidental hint if he tried, but, figuring whatever it was couldn't have been worse than the past two days he'd spent in seclusion, he decided to let things play out and enjoy the surprise—if it was a surprise. Putting his mind into his work, he directed Molly to keep watchful eye on the pasta while he put together a quick salad. The epicurean in him wanted to make everything perfect, and he believed distractions in the kitchen only led to burnt meals and disappointment.

While he put the finishing touches on the plates, Molly left on the pretense of informing the other girls that dinner was almost ready. In her absence, Taro used basil leaves to garnish the pasta, placed rolls on the plates, and wiped down the edges of the salad bowls—the girls wouldn't notice, but he would. Somehow, feeling like he'd lost every friend he had in the world, and then finding out that was completely false, had given him a newfound zeal for cooking. True to that, he and Molly had used every last bit of the available ingredients in making the meal, which resulted in a feast rivaling his family's holiday dinners. It was obviously too much food for the four of them to eat in one sitting, or three sittings, but the leftovers would be incredible.

When the door squeaked open, Taro didn't even turn as he spoke, "Grab a serving platter for the rest, Mols—we can wrap up any leftovers after Miki gets done..."

"I doubt there'll be any leftovers," came a familiarly deep, male reply, which surprised Taro enough to turn.

Finding Hisao standing in the doorway, Taro quirked an eyebrow, but Hisao's presence wasn't particularly surprising, and certainly not unwelcome. Bowing slightly in welcome, Taro greeted, "Oh! Hey, man!" then furrowed his brow and asked, "Did Miki call up Emi, or something—they're not out there fighting again, are they?"

"...Something like that, but no... they're keeping their distance," Hisao replied, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he stepped over the threshold. "I'll help with the platter, but we might wanna grab a few more plates," he added, heading toward the metal shelves that held the dishes, "You go on ahead, I'll get enough for everyone..."

"E-everyone?" Taro stuttered, turning a curious look toward the door as it swung closed. Squinting to try peering through the little round windows, but finding them no easier to see through than normal, he shrugged, then turned to see Hisao pulling down a whole stack of plates—a dozen, at least. "T-that many?" he sputtered, reaching up to scratch his forehead, "U-um..."

"Just go, I'll be right out—tell Emi to come gimme a hand," Hisao stated in an even tone, nodding toward the door.

Uncertain what could be awaiting him through that door, Taro swallowed hard and turned a longing look toward Hisao, who was too busy searching for silverware to notice. Blinking a few times, he tried to determine whether he might still be dreaming. He didn't know why blinking might help him do that, but his hand was occupied with a pair of beautifully arranged plates of pasta and two bowls of salad he couldn't afford to drop; the owner was a stickler for making his employees pay for broken dishes. Figuring it couldn't be any scarier than an inquest with the Dean, School Counselor and Head Nurse, Taro shrugged and started his way toward the door, all the time praying it wasn't the inquest in question.

When he emerged, someone appeared at his side almost immediately to take the plates, but he barely noticed who it was or where they went—it was probably Molly. Instead, Taro looked out at the gathered crowd that now inhabited almost every booth and stool in the place. Some of them were facing away, which made determining who they were difficult, but it seemed as though every single one of his three-three classmates was there, minus a few notable exceptions, and plus a few extras. Standing there dumbfounded, Taro tried to say something, but he didn't really know why they were there, and he considered walking over to greet some of them like a good host should, but that action had the same problem.

Light chuckling drew his attention to where Molly stood behind the counter, apparently fixing drinks for a few of their classmates—Natsume and Naomi, along with a mousy girl to which he couldn't put a name—it was either Misaki or Ikuno. All three of them waved in greeting, then moved away from the counter, apparently headed back toward their booth in the front corner. Meanwhile, Molly reached over and tapped Taro on the shoulder, and he turned to find her standing there with Emi at her side. Where the little runner girl had come from, he couldn't fathom, but he remembered Hisao's request and that thought allowed him to eek out a few phrases.

"H-Hisao asked for you," he said, aiming a shaking finger at Emi, "to help with-"

"Got it, Boss!" she interrupted, patting his numb elbow as she walked around him, headed for the kitchen door.

As he started to turn and watch her leave, the most striking thing he noticed was that she had a formal black skirt and white blouse on, which was not only strange, but completely unprecedented where Emi was concerned. Molly grabbed his elbow and spun him back around, and he almost went to say something, but she was scowling, so he shut his mouth and waited.

"Don't go getting lost, there, space cadet," she said, tugging him out around the counter and toward an empty barstool. "Sit," she commanded, and he did. "Stay," she added, and he nodded, figuring it was better not to argue, "I'm gonna go help Hisao, you just wait here and... close your mouth!"

As she hurriedly jogged back around toward the kitchen, Taro closed his gaping mouth and turned to face the counter. Having barely been aware of his surroundings when he arrived there, he was a little shocked when he found himself bumping elbows with someone, and paled whiter than a sheet when he saw his homeroom teacher sitting there, nursing a cup of coffee. Not wanting to disturb him, or make his presence known, Taro quickly pulled his elbow away and stared straight at the coffee pot on workstation behind the counter. His curiosity got the better of him after a few seconds, and he started sending furtive glances toward Mutou, trying to gauge his demeanor, but he remained as unreadable as ever.

"Mister Arai," he said, his tone flat and a little bit groggy—he seemed to need that coffee he was nursing. "Don't take my presence here as a sign of your being exonerated," he advised, to which Taro nodded. Then the tired teacher turned ever so slightly, just enough for Taro to see the contacts floating in his dreary eyes, and remarked, "I just came here to pay my respects to the man who threw the punch heard 'round Yamaku..."

Not knowing whether to wait and see if he had more to say, or just take it as praise and grin like an idiot, Taro chose to keep his mouth shut and just nod; he always figured Mutou didn't think much of his intelligence, but he also didn't want to open his mouth and provide proof. After a few long moments of Taro's nodding, which he realized probably looked stupid after the first few seconds, Mutou pulled the mug up to his lips and threw back the rest of the burning hot coffee inside. A moment later he spun around and stood, and Taro kept his eyes on that coffee pot. When a hand clapped against his shoulder, he turned to find Mutou standing there with his coat on, a solemn expression creasing the corners of his mouth.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Mutou drew out a folded stack of papers, wrinkled and stained with coffee as they were, and left it on the counter next to Taro. The solemn look turned into a slight smile as he stood back and remarked, "You're not a bad guy, Mister Arai, but..." Mutou's pause became elongated as he took a breath and seemed to reconsider his words. Finally he nodded slightly and clapped Taro's shoulder once again as he advised, "Do me a favor and don't make friends with losers... they're beneath you."

As his science teacher headed for the door, pulling the collar on his duster up as he went, Taro turned to watch him leave. In all the three years he had attended Yamaku, and in all the science classes he'd had with Mutou—not always as his homeroom teacher—Taro could count on one hand how many times they had spoken about anything other than missing homework, failed tests, or truancy. All that combined probably wouldn't total what the man had just said, neither in volume, nor importance. The crowd barely seemed to notice his exit, but, perhaps for the first time, Taro actually wanted to hear more of what Mutou had to say. There would probably be time enough for that later, though, so he swiveled back around and leaned against the counter.

There sat the stack of papers Mutou had left—and Taro had almost forgotten about already—the top page bearing a bold title that, as he examined it while hovering over the folded paper, seemed relative to his recent turmoil. Picking it up and unfolding it, Taro found a biting, unrelenting editorial defaming the actions of both Takashi and Lezard. Reading through it quickly, and then again, Taro shook his head in disbelief; it contained eidetic imagery that could only have been witnessed directly, and then relayed to the writer in all its inglorious detail. If anything had perhaps resulted in his case being reconsidered, it had to be this editorial that was—he thought coincidentally enough—penned by his favorite playwright, Hanako Ikezawa.

"Quite the read, huh?" said an unfamiliar voice.

Turning to find Naomi leaning against the counter nearby, munching on a bread roll, Taro replied, "Y-yeah... uh... hey?" he paused to clear his throat, "Any... idea who Hanako's source was?"

"Trade secret," she replied, taking a bite of her roll, then talking through the mouthful as she added, "Eben aye rassen tuld..."

"What?" Taro prompted, not used to translating her food-speak.

A disgruntled sigh from behind him turned Taro around to find Natsume rolling her eyes at Naomi. "At least close your mouth, sweetie, you'll attract flies," she said with a sardonic smirk, then turned down toward Taro and added, "Hanako can't reveal her sources—it ruins the integrity of her work—our work. You understand, right?"

Taro, not usually one to pick up on tone of voice, easily uncovered the meaning buried under the sweetness of her smile. Returning an equally sweet smile, he stated, "So you know who the source is, you're just not telling me."

"Exactly~!" Naomi lilted, apparently having finished her bite, "If you wanna find out, you should ask Hanako... I wouldn't count on her being forthcoming, though!"

Again Taro could easily pick up on her saccharine tone, and realized she was saying he should talk to Hanako, but she wasn't attending the gathering. Not finding that particularly surprising, he shrugged, turned back to face the counter, and conceded, "I'll give that a try... next time I see her."

As she turned to leave, Natsume spoke encouragingly, "Good luck, Taro~!"

"Nice punch, by the way," Naomi added as she followed her friend.

They certainly left him with a lot to think about, though Taro wasn't sure that would really help. All he needed to do was find Hanako—somehow, somewhere—and ask the identity of her source. It sounded simple enough in his head, except that she was damn near impossible to find—really like a ghost—and still quite skittish around... well, everyone. Still, she knew who deserved his hug and culinary skills for life, so finding and at least asking for her source—even if she flatly refused, or simply ran away—was of paramount importance. In the interim, the Beijing looked like it was on the verge of bursting into a full-scale party, especially now that the only adult had left, so Taro decided to make the most of the festivities.

It hadn't taken terribly long for Taro to figure out it wasn't all for him. Many of those in attendance were heading home within the next day or two, and would miss the school festivities, so this was their last chance to gather with their friends for a little holiday merriment. That sentiment certainly registered with Taro, and so did the fact that they counted him among their friends; they obviously trusted him enough to do the cooking. With that thought in mind, he got up off his stool and made a bee-line for the jukebox in the corner; if they trusted him with the food, music seemed like the next logical step. It wasn't rigged for holiday music, but it was programmed with plenty of currently popular songs and classics.

Music soon filled the dining hall, much to his classmates approval, so Taro returned to his seat at the counter. Almost at the same time, Hisao and Emi emerged from the kitchen with Molly on their heels, each carrying dishes, platters, or salad bowls, and all laughing and joking as they walked. They laid the platters out across the counter—buffet-style—then started handing out plates and silverware to all the attendees. It probably wasn't the best kind of food for a party, but nobody complained, and most of them had glowing compliments for the chef and his assistant. Late into the night they ate, drank—Miki had left a bottle of whiskey hidden among the coffee cups—sang karaoke, and didn't return to Yamaku until well past midnight.


	5. C5: Diary of a Wallflower

**Part 5: Diary of a Wallflower**

Resting on her bed in the prone position, legs bouncing behind her as she anxiously waited for a loading bar, Hanako wished someone would get her a new laptop for Christmas. It had been a while since she had last opened the particular files her fossil of a computer was trying to access, and she could perhaps have attributed its sluggishness to her operating system having forgotten how to interface with a flash drive, but that just sounded ridiculous. Having little else to do but wait, Hanako did the mature thing and smacked the side of her monitor while grumbling a few expletives under her breath.

When that didn't work, she sat up and crossed her legs, then rested her palms over her eyes and groaned as she lurched forward, landing her elbows on her knees. Thoroughly hating her laptop in that instant, she waited through a few long, silent moments until a sound akin to a blip caused her to quirk an eyebrow, and she peeked between her fingers to find that, glory of glories, the retarded thing had finally finished reading the drive. Quickly browsing through the files, she found the password-protected documents she had sought and opened the most recent entry in her diary.

Dated almost a month prior, the contents consisted mostly of comments about Natsume and Naomi treating her more like a member of the newspaper club, rather than a charity case. Reading through it made her regret the depressed tone in her words, but she had always been slow to trust. Besides, this time she had a lot more good news, so she lifted the heavy old laptop into her lap, set up a new document with a different password, then took a swig from her can of coffee and cracked her knuckles; for as many times as she had written in her diary, the starting ritual had never changed.

With that finished, Hanako's fingers began flying around the keyboard with fervor, filling the screen with her typical eloquence as her subdued grin grew to engulf practically her whole face—she even bounced giddily as she typed. Not only had her editorial done its job and gotten the school-board to review Taro's case more carefully, but something completely unexpected had happened due to a bit of misinformation she hadn't even thought about, at least not until after it resulted in a full-blown fistfight. The words spilled out into her secret digital diary so quickly that she didn't even look at the can of coffee for the next hour.

_ [So, the day the holiday edition landed at my classmates doors, there was an immediate backlash against Valeth and Maeda, as intended, but that wasn't the best part! I hadn't even considered it at the time, but, when I noted all the direct quotes, I had named Anonymous as my source—if only to protect myself. That sparked speculation aplenty from anyone who read the editorial; some thought there were multiple spectators who hadn't revealed themselves, while someone in particular was convinced I had gotten my information from a network of tiny cameras placed all around the school—Setou is hilarious when he gets on a roll! _

_ In any case, nobody knew, or even thought for a moment that I had actually been the witness! Except for Lilly, of course, along with the Student Council, Natsume, and Naomi... but nobody else!_

_ Anyway, after reading the editorial themselves—apparently separately—Valeth assumed Madeda was my unnamed anonymous source, and vice-versa! My simple decision to avoid being discovered had unintentionally played them straight into an argument, right in the middle of the cafeteria! Unfortunately, I was upstairs sharing tea and laughing with Lilly during lunch, so I didn't get to see the fight first hand, but more than one of my classmates took a video with their new phones. _

_ It already made its way out into cyberspace, and they're both famous for their slapping match—with any luck it'll teach them a lesson in humility, though I doubt either of them is capable. Anyway, I'm linking the saved video to this file for future reference, and so I can laugh almost hard enough to pee again whenever I reread this entry! ]_

Chuckling to herself as she wrote, Hanako went on to describe how the video evidence had landed both Maeda and Valeth in their own inquests and sequestering, and their expulsions seemed likely. Meanwhile, after multiple classmates—believing Taro had been baited into the assault—spoke out against the injustice, the Dean decided to release him from house-arrest and postponed his inquest. Basically her article had almost worked too well, but she wasn't about to complain.

Once Hanako's witness account was added—which was a necessary process she was dreading—and all the facts were made known, it seemed unlikely Taro would suffer anything worse than mandatory therapy—a proverbial slap on the wrist compared to expulsion. With all that added to her diary, she came to the final bit of personal news she hadn't quite thought through just yet. Staring at the blinking cursor, she would like to have blamed writer's block, but that wasn't the problem.

Having played her role as the White Knight, ridden through with her quill in hand, and done battle with Taro's oppressors, she had hoped her thoughts would return to normal. Passing off her focus on his wellbeing as normal concern for someone in need, she thought the feelings would dissipate once Taro no longer needed her help. By the time Monday rolled around, Hanako thought she had regained control, but the moment Taro stepped into the classroom—into applause, no less—everything came right back to the surface.

Rationally, it hadn't made sense, but even as she stared at her laptop three days after the dust had settled, Hanako was still thinking about Taro's sweet, cherubic grin, hearty laugh, and kind, blue eyes. Somehow she had developed—or finally realized—undeniable romantic feelings for him, but she had denied herself all thoughts of romance for so long that she had no idea what to do, how to think or act, and didn't even know for certain whether what she felt was real.

She had been wrestling with her feelings ever since the library incident—or perhaps even back when Taro was telling his Santa story—but she was too embarrassed to admit anything to anyone; neither herself, her diary, nor her best friend. Smiling irrepressibly despite her confusion, Hanako stared at the blinking cursor so intently that she almost didn't hear the trio of light knocks at her door, or the gentle voice that followed.

"Hanako, are you almost ready?" Lilly inquired, a slight, troubled quiver in her tone, "I know you asked not to be disturbed, but... this dress is... I think I need help...!"

Turning a quick glance at her door, Hanako paused for a moment to consider asking Lilly about her situation, but decided she wanted to handle it herself; she would have to start doing that more often in the near future—after graduation. Saving the file, she closed her laptop started sliding down off her bed as she spoke. "Just a mo-moment, Lilly," she stuttered, grimacing as she fumbled with the words, "S-sorry... I'll be r-right... out..."

"Hanako?" came a slightly louder query, this time sounding more concerned than troubled, "Are you alright?"

Lately Hanako had managed to repress her stutter, especially around Lilly, and it only came out when she was under stress. With her play going on stage later that night, Hanako figured she could pass it off as pre-show jitters, so she replied, "I'm f-fine, Lilly... i-it's just the sh-show is tonight, so..." then grabbed her holiday hat off the bedpost as she added, "I'm a little n-nervous about it is all..."

"Oh!" Lilly exclaimed, "You're not in there editing, I hope? Shizune adores your script, but her patience still has limits!"

"N-no, just... s-something else," Hanako stated, silently berating herself for stuttering as she positioned the hat on her head.

Evidently Lilly decided not to pursue it further, and instead asked, "Well, if you have a moment, I need a bit of help with this... costume... the one Saki insisted on making for me..."

Upon opening her door and seeing said costume, Hanako immediately understood what she meant, and blurted, "Lilly!? Inside... quick!"

As Hanako hurriedly ushered her through the door, Lilly inquired, "What's wrong?"

"J-just... Just trust me, Lilly..." Hanako mumbled, not wanting to startle her.

Hanako had always thought being blind had its perks, although she would never say as much to Lilly; sometimes she thought it might be better if she couldn't see certain things—even her own reflection at times. However, when it came to dressing oneself—especially in revealing clothes—blindness definitely had a disadvantage. For her role as Mrs Claus in the dystopian play Kenji Setou had written for class three-four, Lilly was to wear a thin, black, fluffy-white fringed, figure-hugging dress that ran all the way down to her ankles, and even covered her arms, but its neckline barely existed.

Wrapped just barely over her shoulders, the dress plunged down and exposed almost all of Lilly's ample cleavage—so much that she hadn't realized it had left an areola partially exposed. Without explaining why—if only to save Lilly from the embarrassment—Hanako used some double-sided tape to ensure the neckline didn't dip back down. When she was finished, the fluffy fringe covered up the tape lines, and Hanako felt secure about letting her friend out in public. It occurred to her that a wardrobe malfunction might make a nice fluff piece, but that would be a terrible thing to do to Lilly, and Hanako didn't have to write those anymore.

With Lilly's modesty mostly intact—that neckline still couldn't really be called modest—and the plays due to start within the hour, they put on their coats and left the dorms, headed for the auditorium. Twilight had descended, so as they walked along the winding, snow-covered paths, all the lamps were aglow, lighting the twined silver and gold garlands spiraling around their bases. Trying to describe it as they walked proved futile for Hanako, though Lilly said the cheery, hopeful tone of her voice helped bring it to life.

Upon arriving in the building, the interior of which was dressed in more silver and gold garlands and strings of tiny white lights, Lilly got whisked away by a few of her classmates to help with play preparations. Meanwhile, Hanako headed toward the auditorium at a more leisurely pace. Most of what work remained had to do with costuming, and, having written the play, Hanako had opted out of filling any on-stage roles—her stutter had improved, but not by that much—so she didn't need a costume. With little else to do until the curtain call, Hanako searched through the bustling crowd and found a nice, relatively quiet corner backstage, and sat down to do some reading.

Usually Hanako would get nervous in a crowd, and often left class during group projects for that reason, but the spot she had found wasn't any more heavily trafficked than her beanbag in the library, though it was a lot noisier. That made concentrating on her book difficult, but didn't stop her imagination from replaying parts of the past week. Most of those imaginings strayed toward Taro, and in them she realized something she hadn't yet considered. In recalling the argument in the library, Hanako came to the realization that Taro might reciprocate her feelings, which could just be a girlish delusion, but her therapist often encouraged her to stay optimistic.

"Hey, Hana-chan!" said a voice, pulling Hanako out of her thoughts, "You seen Miki around anywhere?"

Standing with her hands on her hips, face contorted into a displeased pout, Kapur looked more perturbed than concerned. "N-no, I haven't," Hanako replied, glancing down at her book, "I've been here... r-reading..."

Leaning back to look down along the row of curtains, Kapur groaned, "Ah, damn..."

Not knowing what she was expecting, Hanako turned back to her book, though a disgruntled sigh turned her attention back to where the worried girl was rubbing her temple. She looked flustered, and Hanako wasn't exactly getting any reading done anyway, so she set aside her book and stood.

Fidgeting for a moment as Kapur bit her lip and winced, she offered, "Where did you s-see her last?"

Waving a hand around aimlessly, she replied, "She's back here somewhere... but I swear she ducks every time I get near! Suzu is getting fitted now—great nurse costumes, by the way! But that means everyone else is busy-busy-busy, so... if you aren't doing anything?"

Figuring she could also take a look around and see how things were progressing in the process, Hanako nodded. Being suspicious that Miura had been hiding from her intentionally, Kapur directed Hanako to check back the way she had come, and they set off in opposite directions. Although the pretense of finding Miura was on the forefront of her mind, Hanako couldn't help pausing to see what her classmates were doing.

Several little alcoves had been set up, and students from all four third-year classes were being made-up and fitted into all sorts of imaginative costumes. Some were as simple as peasant outfits and hospital gowns, which really didn't need fitting, but many were much more complicated. A few even had mechanical parts and clockwork gears—presumably for the steam-punk-themed _Christmas Carol_ room three-four had planned—but Miura wasn't among any of the costuming teams she had seen thus far, so she kept walking.

A short way past the clockwork costumes, Hanako found Shizune and Misha along with a few Fashion Club members. Apparently Misha had already been fitted into the bright white nurse outfit for her role, which Hanako hadn't expected to have such a short skirt, but the bubbly girl didn't seem to mind. Meanwhile, Shizune looked like she was on the verge of going nuclear, although it wasn't clear whether that was because the two student tailors were failing to get the top fitted correctly, or just because the Mrs Clause costume was so revealing—the short red skirt and tiny top didn't leave much to the imagination.

When the fiery Class President sent a frustrated glare into the mirror, apparently noticing Hanako's mirthful smirk, the skittish girl quickly exited the area; some battles are best left unfought. Through another curtain, Hanako found Saki Enomoto, leader of the burgeoning Fashion Club, trying to quickly patch a hole someone apparently ripped in their costume vest. The blond girl wasn't alone at the workbench, but Hanako didn't recognize the tall red-haired girl working alongside her. Neither of them seemed happy, though, so she continued through the next curtain.

Past a rounded corner, she found Natsume and Naomi standing in front of a big mirror having some alterations done to their cute, green-and-white-striped elf costumes. They each waved at Hanako, and she responded in kind, but the girls were quickly discouraged from moving or breathing; moving canvases makes fashion a difficult art. Not wanting to slow progress or draw ire, Hanako left them alone and moved along into another alcove which was left dark and unadorned, but contained exactly what she was seeking.

The overhead lights were dimmed enough to make the figure seated on an old amplifier look like a piece of scenery, but the long hair and missing hand gave away her identity. Balancing an open can of grape juice on one knee as she tapped her other foot in time with the holiday medley being played over the school intercom, Miura didn't notice Hanako's entrance, though that was probably because she had her eyes closed. Having found her charge so soon made Hanako frown for a moment, but then she had an idea.

She needed advice, preferably from someone who wouldn't mince words, and there was no more straight a talker than Miki Miura—it was one of her best traits in Hanako's opinion. Additionally, the sordid tales of romantic intrigue surrounding the one-handed track star were legendary; though none of it had ever been confirmed, Miura could be linked to almost a dozen different boys, and at least one unidentified girl. Even if all those rumors were false, Miura had been friends with Taro since she joined their class the previous year, and would probably have insight to offer on what he might be thinking.

For a moment, Hanako hesitated and considered that Miura might make fun of her, but that warning thought didn't have a rational basis; Miura was known to poke fun at people, but never maliciously. Additionally, Kapur was probably still searching for her friend, but Hanako figured a few minutes wouldn't make a lot of difference. Resolved to at least open up and try asking for advice, Hanako ambled over and found a metal folding chair to set up nearby.

It took a few moments for Miura to realize she had a visitor, but she didn't seem terribly surprised or unhappy to find Hanako sitting beside her. Apparently glad to have company, Miura put her stump arm around Hanako's shoulders and started them both waving with the music. Flashing a big toothy grin, she leaned a little closer and started singing along.

"Danglin' balls, danglin' balls... hairy, round and big-yay~!" she sang, laughing bawdily at the altered lyrics, "Grab 'em, rub 'em, tug 'em, love 'em, otherwise you're gay-hey~!"

Based on the smell of her breath, Hanako surmised Miura had been celebrating early, but that wasn't exactly unexpected; it explained why she had been hiding from Kapur, though. It occurred to her that asking Miura for romantic advice while she was in that state probably wasn't the best idea, but, having experienced drunkenness herself, she knew it often made people more truthful. That didn't make asking any easier, but it guaranteed honest replies, or that's what she hoped, at least.

Summing up her courage, Hanako began, "S-so, Miura, I n-need some ad-"

"To what do I owe the honor...?" Miura interrupted, snatching the can off her knee to take a swig of what probably wasn't juice. Quickly draining the remnants, she crushed the can in her hand, peered around for a few moments, then tossed it carelessly over her shoulder.

Sensing a pause in Miura's thoughts, Hanako sputtered, "Y-you see, I-"

Grinning at Hanako's raised eyebrow, Miura continued her previous statement, "...Of the lof'ly Hanak-" she paused to belch loudly, "Hanako...!? What're ye doin' sittin' back hurr-i-na dark...?" she flitted her eyebrows suggestive, "Lookin' fer a nip?"

As Hanako tilted her head slightly, not understanding at first, but then Miura produced a flask from inside her denim vest and held it out, presumably as an offering. Shaking her head just slightly, Hanako replied, "N-no thanks," which drew a critical pout from Miura, so she added, "Maybe l-later...?"

After drawing a sip from the flask, Miura conceded, "Okay, your loss...!" Then, once it was closed and stuffed back in her pocket, she asked, "So, wha' ken I do ya fer, Hano-ko-ko?"

Evidently Miura's drunkenness fluctuated in its severity, or at least the outward signs did, but she still seemed coherent enough to answer some questions, and might not even remember being asked, which Hanako thought might be fortunate; nobody would know about her crush on Taro. Unfortunately, while she was hesitating and trying to think, Hanako wasn't doing a very good job at hiding all of her outward signs; just thinking about Taro made her blush. Even while inebriated, Miura could identify that sort of indicator, so before Hanako could say anything, a grin spread across her drunken companion's face and she leaped to some damningly accurate conclusions.

"It's a boy!" she exclaimed, suddenly sounding partially sober, "You've got a crush and parked yerself by Auntie Miki fer sem advi- uh... advinery...?" she paused and scratched her temple before blurting, "Talkin'...! Yeah~! Am I rii-iight~?"

Evidently Miura was more perceptive and less discreet while drunk, which seemed like a somewhat unfortunate pairing of traits, but at that moment all that mattered was that she had been so right. As Hanako wrung her hands together nervously and almost managed to nod, Miura tugged her a little closer and started chuckling. At first it sounded sinister, but quickly changed over into a more cheerful guffaw.

"You got it bad, too, don'cha~! I won' tell—promise~!" she lilted, trying and failing to keep her voice down. Suddenly pulling Hanako a mere few centimeters away, she whispered, "Who's it, ana'way?" Pausing barely long enough for Hanako to look away—which was mostly to get away from the overwhelming odor of alcohol—Miura started speculating aloud, "Can't be Aaron, he's gone to 'Murika fer the holla- holly- Uh...? Season!"

That assumption was probably based on proximity more than anything else, but Hanako shook her head anyway. Trying to stem the flood of questions, Hanako sputtered, "N-no, not-"

"You had a thing fer Hisao, I 'member," Miura interrupted, apparently suffering from selective hearing, "but he's wiff Emi now, so... U'less he goes all neto- uh... N-T-R on 'er..."

"No, n-neither of them, Mi- uh... Miura," Hanako sputtered, suddenly wondering why she had bothered with this conversation; it was starting to feel like self-inflicted torture.

"Don' worry, I think I kno' who yer crushin' on, Hana-chan~!" Miura cheered, adding a wink that looked more like a blink, "S'ok, you wanna be private 'bout it, but les' be siri'uss fer a second..."

Hanako hardly thought Miura capable of being serious in that moment, but in her inebriated state Miura would probably reply no matter what she said, so she nodded and mumbled, "O-okay..."

After a few long, paralyzingly awkward moments, Hanako started to hear soft snoring against her shoulder; evidently Miura had already consumed more than her limit of alcohol. Disappointed, Hanako bowed her head for a few moments and let out a disgruntled sigh—she never did get to hear any useful advice. Worse, when she finally looked up, she found that the sleeping drunk was staring to drool. Resisting the instinct to leap away, and not wanting to end up with stains on her holiday sweater, Hanako gently pushed against Miura's shoulder until she was almost sitting upright, then held her there as she stood.

She couldn't just let Miura fall of the amplifier, so she looked around for some way to lower her to the floor, but there wasn't anything nearby that looked useful. Apparently this dark little corner had been left empty intentionally, and it felt like someone had done so only to spite her in that moment, but then there came a shuffling noise and the curtain flew back revealing a stern-looking Molly Kapur, holding a bottle of water.

"Did she pass out?" she asked, rolling her eyes. Apparently realizing the situation, Kapur set down the bottle and moved to Miura's side. "Hold on, I gotcha, Hana-chan—sorry about this!" she said, taking one of Miura's shoulders, "We can set her down and prop her against the amp, okay?"

Turning a quick nod at the twin-braided girl, Hanako replied, "O-okay... on th-three?"

Nodding, Kapur directed, "One... Two...! Three!" and soon they had Miura down on the floor resting against the amplifier. Turning a wry smirk toward Hanako as they backed away, Kapur apologized again, "Sorry, I checked all the way to the other end, and-" she stopped and smirked, "Anyway, nice save...!"

"Thanks..." Hanako mumbled, shaking her head slowly as she watched Miura clutch at her missing hand, then shift her shoulders uncomfortably. "W-will she be alright...?"

"Oh, she's been worse off than this before~!" Kapur assured her, pausing for a few beats before tilting her head a little and asking, "You're cool with this, right?"

Returning a soft smile, Hanako nodded and replied, "S-sure... It's Christmas, a-after all..."

"Okay, good... 'cause I don't think she'll be able to play her part, now..." Kapur mentioned, which Hanako only then realized was true, and might have dire consequences.

Miura didn't have a speaking role, but her part did involve a pivotal moment in the story: she played the third sick kid. If she were wobbling around on stage in front of the whole school—rather than her nice, secluded, backstage corner—someone might notice, and she could end up in a heap of trouble. Added to that, because many of their classmates had already gone home to spend the holiday with family, and two of them were trapped in the dorms until their likely expulsion, there was nobody left take her place unless Hanako counted herself.

Apparently Kapur was having a similar thought, and it left her grinning and nodding while Hanako shook her head and frowned. With Miura unavailable along with everyone else, it would fall on Hanako to stand in for her role, and that would mean getting up on stage in front of two-hundred spectators. Even on her best day, Hanako wasn't sure if she could hold up under that much scrutiny, and then there was the added problem: sick kid number three sits on Santa's knee just before the stage goes dark.

They continued their opposing gestures, both growing more emphatic with each passing moment, until Kapur finally broke the silence. "C'mon~! You wouldn't even have any lines~!" she practically sang as Hanako's shoulders slumped—not that she had any idea about the real reason. "And she can handle a light switch, I'm sure! All you'd have to do is stand on stage with the other kid roles, then take a seat on Taro's knee just before the lights go out... after that you could wander off stage, and nobody'd know the difference! C'mon~!"

The excited way in which she described it made Hanako smile, but Hanako wasn't even worried about going on stage anymore. Getting that close to Taro would be embarrassing enough, but adding her feelings and two-hundred spectators to the equation was just too much. Mouth agape as she fidgeted nervously, Hanako imagined a few dozen scenarios over the course of a few seconds, and her increasingly worrisome expression started to scare Kapur. Most of her classmates had witnessed her panic attacks more than once, and Kapur looked appropriately horrified at the prospect, but Hanako still had control—she wasn't headed for catatonia.

In that moment, all Hanako wanted to ensure was that Kapur didn't figure out the real reason behind her panicked reaction. "I'm f-fine, M-Molly!" she said reassuringly, as firmly as she could, though her thick stutter did little to ease the concern on Molly's face. Taking a controlled breath, which seemed to help Molly relax as well, Hanako added, "J-just... I'll be f-fine, r-really! It's just a l-little stage f-f-fright..."

Taking a chance by placing a comforting hand on Hanako's shoulder, Molly cheerily exclaimed, "Hey~! You called me Molly!"

"D-did I?" Hanako questioned, pausing for a moment before continuing, "S-sorry, I usually don-"

"No, I like it!" Molly blurted, patting Hanako's shoulder gently as she added, "You never had to be formal or anything—we've all known each other too long for that!"

"Meee too!" Miura added groggily, apparently awakened by their talking. "Me, Miki... You, Hanako!" she added as Hanako turned to see her pointing lethargically, "If you call me Miura one more time, I'll-... No, I'd ne'er do dat...! I-... Juss... call me Miki..."

As Miki drifted back to sleep—all her energy apparently spent on that garbled slur—Molly giggled and added, "That goes for Suzu too—you can call her Snoozu...! Anyway~!" she paused for a moment and clasped her hands together, "You can do this thing! I mean, you wrote it—you should be in it!"

Standing there, frowning perplexedly as she watched Miki start to drool on herself again, Hanako thought that Molly might be right. Even ignoring the fact that Miki probably wouldn't be in any condition to go on stage, Hanako did have an investment in the play itself, and assuming a role—even a minor one—would be artistically satisfying. The prospect of sitting on Taro's knee for any length of time still sounded terrifying, as did simply being on stage with everyone watching, but she could think of it as a test of character. Assuming nothing nothing terrible happened while she was on stage, it might even give her a huge boost of confidence.

"Great~!" Molly beamed, apparently reading an agreement in Hanako's expression. "I'll have her sobered up enough to flip a switch in time for our curtain call," she continued, moving over to retrieve a bag from behind Miki's amplifier. Drawing out a balled up white cloth with little blue flowers, she tossed it over for Hanako to catch and explained, "That's the gown she was supposed to wear—you can just wear it over your clothes~!"

Molly's exuberance was rather infectious, so Hanako smiled even though her mind was somewhat occupied. The stage lights were supposed to shut off soon after she sat on Santa's knee, thereby simulating a power outage that set up the next scene. The audience would probably gasp in suspense, and there would then be a few seconds of silence, during which Hanako would remain on Taro's knee in total darkness. In those few seconds, nobody would be able to see what was happening, which would create a perfect opportunity.

The prospect sounded both exciting and terrifying, not to mention potentially heartening or disastrous, and as Molly went about trying to slap some sense back into Miki—assuming there ever was any—Hanako wondered whether fate might have guided her hand in writing that scene; she couldn't have predicted Miki's drunkenness, or the lack of alternates. Usually Hanako hated reading ahead in a story, and she didn't know whether she would have enough confidence even in total darkness, but maybe she could plot something interesting to write in her diary. One way or the other, fate was either being incredibly unkind, or very generous—Hanako hoped for the latter.


End file.
